


Found in Odd Situations

by Fire_Bear



Series: Found in Odd Situations [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: (Ish) - Freeform, (badly described), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, F/M, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Infidelity, Kissing, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Porn With Plot, Porn actors, Porn with Feelings, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 13:42:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9184039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Bear/pseuds/Fire_Bear
Summary: Alfred is an actor in an adult film company which prides itself in original story-telling. Directed by Francis, he is often admired by ladies and men alike. However, Francis also specialises in gay couples. Alfred is rather hard to partner however and, when they hire a new actor, Alfred finds himself attracted to him. But why is Arthur so cold to him?





	1. First Time

**Author's Note:**

> This was written quite a while ago - not only is it bad porn writing, I was trying to keep it vague so ff.net didn't take it down. (Apparently, it succeeded since it's still up, so.)
> 
> (Please ignore all the unnecessary French.)

The blonde American walked into his place of work and grinned at the girl behind the front desk. "Hiya!" he said, cheerily. "Which room am I in today?"

The dark-haired woman smiled up at him, blushing slightly. "Room seventeen, Alfred," she said, quietly. He nodded at her and passed her by, much to her disappointment. Alfred wasn't sure why she was so disappointed – it was a well known fact that he was gay.

He got into the elevator and pressed the button for the correct floor. Slowly, it carried him up past the few floors which were actually used by the hotel for their patrons. This was separated from the top levels by two corridors of "storage". These unused rooms had within them the tools of Alfred's trade and they prevented noises reaching the innocent patrons who didn't know what went on above.

Finally, he reached his destination and entered into a dim hallway. The only light came from lamps on the tables placed at regular intervals along the corridor. The thick, black curtains were pulled tight across the windows so that no-one could see the goings-on within the building. Of course, if they wanted to see them, they could always wait.

Alfred made his way to the other end of the corridor, where he knew the room was. As he passed Room Fifteen, what he like to call the Chain Room, he heard an exclamation from within. "Più! Più profondo!" He grinned: he could feel himself getting into the mood.

At the room, he knocked and entered. The room was not locked and, inside, no-one was waiting. There was a large bed with soft sheets, this time with a simple pattern of roses. The bedside cabinet also held a vase of roses and petals were strewn across the bed. Two, large professional cameras were pointed towards it. A third hung from the ceiling, safely secured. A microphone and sound equipment were propped up in one of the corners. A folding chair was set opposite the bed, as far back as possible. Alfred shrugged and sat on it, leaning back a little.

For a while, nothing else happened. Then, suddenly, he heard someone approach and the door was opened. He looked round to find Francis, Gilbert and Antonio entering. Francis seemed happy, Gilbert looked smug and Antonio was grinning as usual. The blonde director walked to the chair and stood facing Alfred. His blue eyes bored into his and the American grinned before standing and moving out of the way. The man rolled his eyes before sitting down and crossing his legs, elegantly. Today he was wearing a white shirt open far down his chest and his trousers were a little tighter than normal. Alfred approved but said nothing. The German cameraman, meanwhile, was making sure the cameras were all working and pointing in the right direction. He was wearing his usual red hoodie and jeans. A little yellow bird badge was pinned to his shoulder. Alfred still wasn't sure what it meant. As this was going on, Antonio picked up his microphone and placed a set of headphones on his ears. Then he started humming to himself. The Spaniard was in a simple t-shirt and jeans, as well. Whatever was written in Spanish was probably funny but Alfred had never grasped the language. He hadn't grasped a lot of things: that was why he was here.

"So, didja get a new guy, then?" he asked his French director. "When's he getting here?"

"Well, you are unusually early, cher," said Francis, spreading his hands with a smile. "I told both of you to be here in five minutes. Before we start, though, I must say: this will probably be that man's first time at doing something like this. So be nice to him, oui?"

"Sure! I'll be heroic as always!"

"Oui, oui," said Francis as there came a knock on the door. "Entrez!"

Slowly, the door opened, as if the person on the other side was rather hesitant about entering. A smaller blonde man entered, glancing around, taking everything in. Finding Francis, he gazed at him with hesitant green eyes. He seemed to be rather lean but not too thin – he might have even had muscles but they were hidden by his t-shirt which proclaimed he loved London. In fact, he was rather attractive, a fine fit for Alfred. The only problem were his thick eyebrows. Alfred had never seen anything like it.

"Mr. Bonnefoy," said the man, rather stiffly. Alfred immediately recognised the accent as British. He loved that accent; he wasn't sure why, but he loved it. "I'm here but..." He glanced at Alfred. "What exactly is it that I'm going to be doing again?"

Francis chuckled. "Well, you will be doing Alfred," he said with a smirk, gesturing at the tall American. Alfred grinned in response. The Brit glanced at him before glaring at the director once again.

"I was not aware of this situation. May we discuss this privately somewhere?"

"Oui! Let us go to another room, mon cher, et we can discuss it to our hearts' content."

The man glowered but followed the Frenchman from the room. Alfred blinked. "What's up with him?" he asked Gilbert.

"I do not know, Alfred," said Gilbert. "Never met him before, so I couldn't say. You are all set to be filmed, ja?"

"Yeah! Let's see the script, though. Francis said it wasn't ready when I asked for it a few days ago." Gilbert nodded and handed Alfred the script. The American glanced at the lines he had to say. It was the typical sort of things said after a first date. He smiled. A first date for a first time, huh? Francis was being generous with this man. He must have taken a real shine to the newcomer. He quickly learned his lines – and the man's name. "Arthur" was written at his lines. It was a rather heroic name, Alfred felt. Kingly, too. With each new revelation, he was growing more attractive. The audience would love that.

After placing the script back on Francis' chair, Alfred sat on the bed, careful not to disturb the rose petals. Gilbert rolled his eyes. "You know not to touch anything Alfred. How many times do we have to tell you, dummkopf?"

Alfred laughed loudly. "It's not going to matter!"

"Francis will still be upset, sí?" said Antonio, smiling kindly. Alfred always got the sense that the Spaniard thought of him as someone who needed to be babied.

He shrugged. "We can fix it later or something."

At that point, the door opened again and Francis and the new man came in. The Brit looked irritated and uneasy. Alfred wondered what was wrong. Before he could ask, however, Francis handed Arthur the script and sat down. After waiting for Arthur to learn his few lines, he spoke with a tone of authority. "Places, everyone, s'il vous plait!" Arthur walked to the door and stood, facing the room. He scowled at nothing, seemingly preparing himself. Gilbert turned one of the cameras to face him. Alfred, meanwhile, moved to stand before the bed. He spread his arms wide and waited for the word. Gil checked that the other camera was pointed at him and then gave Francis the thumbs up. He nodded and smiled. "Action!"

"Well? What d'ya think?" Alfred asked Arthur, now completely ignoring the other three. He gazed at the Brit who stared back at him before looking around at the roses, looking rather shocked. Alfred was impressed by his skill as an actor if he could look so alarmed after seeing the room beforehand.

"You... did all this... for me?" he asked, hesitantly, stepping forward a little. His clipped British tones sent a pleasant shiver down Alfred's spine and his heart rate increased. He decided not to hide it.

"Yeah! I heard you like roses so I got a whole load of red ones!" He turned and plucked one from the bedside cabinet. Turning, he saw a shocked Arthur with a hand to his chest, his fingers curled slightly, his eyes wide. Grinning, he tore off most of the stem and moved to stand before his new partner. The camera followed him but he paid it no heed as he placed the rose in Arthur's hair. "They suit you well," he added, smiling down at him.

Arthur gazed up at him, speechless. "I... How did you...? They're my favourite..." he managed to say. Alfred was beginning to lose track of what he was doing. How could this man be such a good actor? He placed his hand at the newcomer's cheek and smiled at him.

"I know because I want to everything about you, Arthur."

"You... do? Why...?"

Alfred once again laughed loudly. Arthur glanced up at him in surprise, a blush appearing on his cheeks. It was such a cute appearance that Alfred also flushed a little, unaware that the cameras were catching this unusual occurrence. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Huh-?" began Arthur but he was cut off as Alfred leaned in for a kiss. "Mmf!" he heard Arthur say. He could see the man's surprise in his wide emerald orbs before he closed his own blue ones. Gently, cautiously, he wrapped his arms around the smaller man. Alfred held him close as he felt around his mouth for an opening. Finding one, he slipped his tongue in. For a moment, he was worried when he didn't feel a response: it wouldn't look good on camera and they'd have to start over. However, after a few seconds, Alfred felt the other's tongue slip into his mouth. The American took that chance to entwine their tongues.

Then, once he had deemed it enough to get anyone watching hot and bothered, Alfred tightened his grip on Arthur and picked him up. He carried him to the bed as the Brit struggled, trying to get away from his mouth to speak, to say his lines. Alfred grinned and kissed him each time he managed to get his mouth free. Finally, he dropped his partner on the bed and knelt over him, smiling down at him.

"Just-! What-?! What on Earth are you doing?!" Arthur exclaimed. His blush had spread and he looked much more attractive than he had a moment ago.

Happily, Alfred replied simply. "You know what this is. And you want to do this, don't you?"

"I... I... I don't..." said Arthur, looking away. His eyes shone and his blush darkened. He looked a little upset. Alfred guessed that many a person looked like this when they were trying to hide their feelings from someone. This had been in the script but he hadn't realised it would be this realistic. He almost wanted to stop, concerned for him. Then he remembered the script and leaned forward, kissing Arthur's cheek.

"I know you do, Arthur. Don't worry. I'll be gentle."

Arthur looked back at him. "A-Alfred... Will... Will it really be all right?"

"Sure!" Alfred grinned.

"W-Well... As long as... you're gentle."

Alfred grinned and kissed his new partner full on the lips. He quickly removed Arthur's top, throwing his own on top of it. When he looked back down, Arthur was looking to the side. This wasn't in the bare-boned script – Francis wrote the lines and the story leading up to the sex but, afterwards, they were mostly on their own. "Arthur?"

He looked round, his eyes widening in shock. Perhaps he hadn't realised his distraction. "S-Sorry! The... The roses. I can smell them. It's quite relaxing." He smiled at Alfred and the American felt his heart skip a beat as he looked down at the worried and blushing man. He was really handsome – the eyebrows, formerly something not considered good, didn't detract from his looks at all. "And... And I have something to tell you..." Alfred recognised the line from the script, though he didn't care for the timing. Francis could be a little sadistic when it came to writing these scripts. "I... This is my first time... actually... bedding a man... I have never gotten this far... before."

Brushing Arthur's eyebrows with a thumb, Alfred smiled gently. "It's okay." Then he leant forward and kissed him between his eyebrows. He sat up a little to see the surprise on Arthur's face before leaning over again to kiss him at the bridge of his nose. He continued to kiss him: on his nose, his mouth, his jaw, his collarbone. When he reached there, he received a gasp of surprise and Arthur tensed. Grinning, he moved to kiss him on the neck.

He gasped again. "Alfred! Wait! I-!" But Alfred stopped him from saying anything further by kissing him full on the mouth. Once again, he slipped in his tongue. This time, however, once he had wrapped his tongue around the other's, he made the kiss last longer. He felt himself getting turned on: his heart was beating faster and he could feel himself pressing against his jeans. He'd have to take them off soon. He broke the kiss and watched Arthur panting. He had turned really red and his eyes seemed to be watering. Alfred smiled and kissed at his neck, sucking and nibbling. A moan escaped Arthur's lips and Alfred felt happy.

Now that Arthur had stopped protesting, Alfred moved back to his chest. He kissed along his lean frame, marvelling that it looked so good despite the lack of muscles. Finally, he reached one of Arthur's nipples. He heard a gasp and he glanced up at Arthur who had propped himself on his elbows to look at him. As he opened his mouth, Alfred kissed his new target before placing his lips around it. He began to suck, using his tongue as much as possible. He heard another gasp and glanced up: Arthur had his head thrown back, presumably in pleasure. Alfred lifted his hand and touched Arthur's neck before tracing his way to the other nipple. He felt the Brit shiver underneath him. When he reached the other one, he began to squeeze and roll it between finger and thumb. There was another gasp followed by an exclamation: "A-Al... fred!"

Grinning again, Alfred continued kissing his way down to Arthur's pants. He heard the gasp as he reached the waistband and grinned. "W-Wait..." muttered Arthur. Frowning at the words, Alfred moved further down to his crotch. He took him in his mouth without taking his clothes off and sucked a little. "Ah!" he heard Arthur say as he squirmed beneath him. "No... Don't... Not... Take them off..." Arthur said through his panting.

"Sure thing, babe!" said Alfred. He hurriedly unzipped and pulled of the pants, Arthur's rather British underwear soon joining them. His grin wide once again, Alfred kissed at Arthur's leg, close to his lower regions but not close enough to touch him. He felt Arthur tensing again and smirked. Licking up his leg, he heard the sigh from Arthur followed by another gasp as he turned his head and licked at his rod. He licked up and down it, nibbling slightly. Arthur gasped and moaned and tried to speak but Alfred ignored him, concentrating on what he was doing. Finally, he took all of him in his mouth.

"N-No!" gasped Arthur. He propped himself on his elbows and Alfred looked up at him. He almost opened his mouth in shock. Arthur's face had turned a dark shade of red. His eyebrows twisted into a mixed expression of worry and holding back pleasure. That face... Alfred's heart skipped a beat. His breath caught in his throat. He could feel himself get very turned on and he ached to pull his pants off. In all his years of making these films, he had never felt like this simply from seeing someone's erotic expression. Was this something which had eluded him for so long? Was this what everyone called love? It couldn't be... He stared at Arthur, who gazed back through the haze of lust. "D-Don't do that! I... I'll come. Stop!"

"Ju' cu'," Alfred mumbled around Arthur who gasped and moaned at the sensation. The American felt a sudden desire and desperation to make Arthur happy and to help him climax. He began to bob his head up and down, sucking and licking, raking his teeth along him. The Brit cried out several times but he seemed to be holding back. Alfred stopped for breath and held his leg carefully. "Arthur... You don't need to hold back," he muttered as he kissed his thigh.

"Nngh!" was the only response he received. Glancing up at him with a smile, he noticed Arthur's hands clutching the sheets. Alfred's smile widened and he stooped again, taking him in his mouth. Slowly, he made his way further down, finally getting all of it in his mouth. "Ah!" he heard. "Co-Com-! Nnngh!" Alfred felt the sticky substance run down his throat. He forced himself not to let go, swallowing all of it – another first on camera. He came up, wiping at his mouth. Alfred froze as he saw Arthur's state.

The British man was red-faced and panting. There were tears at his eyes which shimmered and shone. Seeing Alfred looking, he gasped and raised an arm, covering his face. He shook his head. Before Arthur could speak, however, Alfred gently pulled the arm away so that they were looking at each other. "Don't," he murmured, smiling down at the man.

The hesitant smile he received in reply caused Alfred to remember his own needs and he began to unbuckle his belt. He fumbled with it and, frustrated, was about to curse – something Francis despised – when he felt hands gently help him. He looked at Arthur and they smiled at each other. Just as quickly as it had come, Arthur's smile vanished, his cheeks turning red once more. Alfred ignored this and kicked off his pants, revealing himself. The Brit's eyes widened. Alfred's smile widened to a grin. "It's big, ain't it?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and smirked at him. "I've seen bigger," he said, teasingly.

"Oh? So how many men have you spied on in the showers?" asked Alfred with a laugh. As Arthur blushed, Alfred leant forward and kissed him, their tongues melding with each other. The American then reached down and spread Arthur's legs before finding his destination.

"W-Wait," breathed Arthur as he pulled away from Alfred. He seemed a little worried but Alfred just reassured him with a smile. He grabbed a condom from the bedside table and slipped it on before sticking his fingers in Arthur's mouth. He felt Arthur's tongue lick them a little hesitantly but he pulled them out before there was any protest. "A-Ah!" Arthur whispered as Alfred pushed gently into him. He gasped and groaned, his back arching at the contact.

"Just bear with it," Alfred whispered into his ear as he pushed further in. Once he had gotten it in as far as he could, he inserted another one, relishing the cries and gasps from the other man. When they were both in, he widened the entrance, slowly, letting Arthur get used to it. Soon, Arthur had stopped gasping in pain and pleasure and was only moaning softly. Judging it to be time, Alfred pushed against Arthur who moaned and gazed at him through a haze of lust. Then he thrust in and Arthur cried out, tears at his eyes. Alfred gazed down at his partner, his own eyes clouding with lust as he felt Arthur tense around him. It felt glorious, better than anything he had felt before. After waiting for a moment to let Arthur grow accustomed to him, he began his steady thrusting. Gathering up Arthur in his arms, he pressed his body into the smaller man's. He felt Arthur's arms surround him, his nails digging into his back.

For several minutes they continued like this: thrusting, groaning, gripping, kissing. Finally, Alfred felt the pressure to be too much and he let go. Soon after, Arthur did the same. Panting, Alfred pulled out and, after getting rid of the condom, he flopped down onto the bed beside the smaller man. Arthur's eyes were half-closed and he was breathing heavily. Smiling at how cute the Brit was, especially with the rose still in his hair, Alfred pulled him into an embrace. "You can sleep now," he whispered.

"But..."

He put a finger to Arthur's lips. "We can talk in the morning."

"Coupez!" The shout echoed around the room and Alfred blinked. Arthur looked round blearily. Francis was sitting on his chair, leaning forward. The red in his cheeks indicated to Alfred that what they had been doing had not only been good for the film but had also turned Francis on. Glancing at Gilbert, he saw that he was blushing and hiding himself by sitting on the stool attached to one of his cameras. Antonio was just grinning. The director clapped, smirking at Arthur. "Bravo. Especially for your first time being filmed doing something like this, oui?"

Alfred suddenly felt firm hands pushing him away. Surprised, he slid off the bed and landed, hard. Arthur stood, searching for his clothes. A scowl was on his face and he grabbed the flower from his hair, throwing it aside. It landed on Alfred's lap and he stared at it. "Shut up!" growled the Brit, suddenly vicious.

"Now, now, cher. There is no need to be like that," said the Frenchman with a frown.

Arthur pulled on his underwear and pants, wincing every so often. He grabbed his shirt, glancing at Alfred to scowl at him. "You told me I had to act – you never said anything about actually doing it."

"Well, desolé, cher. I like realism in my films. I thought you knew that."

The newcomer glared around the room. "Well, if you must know, that hurt!" A blush crept across his cheeks. "I've never done it like that before!"

A silence descended. Then Antonio laughed, encouraging Alfred, Francis and Gilbert to do the same. "So it really was your first time?" said the Spaniard through his laughter.

The blush darkened and Arthur looked unimpressed. He growled and pulled on his shirt. "If that's everything...?" he said pointedly.

"Oui, that was perfect. Merci beaucoup!"

"Good! I'm leaving," snapped Arthur and left the room.

Francis chuckled. "Are you going to let him leave, Alfred, chéri?

"Huh?" said Alfred, standing up. The rose fell but he grabbed it before it reached the floor. Looking round, he grabbed his own clothes. "Why should I go after him?"

"Well, if he decides to quit, you know what will happen, oui?" Alfred froze and glanced at Francis. The Frenchman was smiling slightly, watching to see his choice. He knew well what would happen if he lost another partner. He had already had multiple partners for these films. But none of them had been the right fit and they had coupled with others whom Francis had employed. Whenever that happened, there was no use for Alfred – but no other income for the American. So Francis took pity on him and paid him. Yet, he couldn't pay him for nothing: there had to be a use for him. So, to keep himself in a job and to pay for food, Alfred had offered to have sex with Francis. He had accepted and it had been commonplace since then, with the way Alfred went through partners.

Adjusting his glasses which had managed to stay on his face throughout, Alfred hurried to the door, carrying his clothes and the rose. Getting out of the room, he looked down the corridor and saw Arthur just getting to the elevator doors. "Hey! Wait!" Alfred called down the corridor. When Arthur turned to see who was there, he gaped at the taller man as he came rushing towards him, his bundle of clothes the only thing keeping him decent.

"What the-?! What are you doing?! Put your clothes on!"

Alfred grinned and hurriedly pulled on his boxers and pants. "Hey, don't leave just yet!"

"My job here is done," said Arthur, crossing his arms. "I don't need to stay here."

"Well, I didn't mean you didn't need to leave," said Alfred as he pulled his shirt back on. "I just meant you shouldn't leave without me!" He grinned at the smaller man and held out the flower. Arthur's eyes narrowed and he took it from him.

"And why exactly would that be?"

"Since we're gonna be working together, we should get to know each other, right? I know a diner near here. We could go get something to eat! I'm starved!"

The British man seemed dubious, and looked him up and down as the elevator arrived. "I suppose it couldn't hurt to get to know my workmate..."

"Cool! Let's go!" Alfred grabbed Arthur's hand and pulled him into the elevator. He ignored the man's protests and kept hold of it as he pressed the button for the first floor.

* * *

Arthur did not seem impressed by the 24 hour diner. He glared around the interior and then back at Alfred who only smiled at him in response. He hadn't expected Arthur to accompany him and he was rather happy that he had. A date with this man – he hadn't even thought about that with anyone else he'd worked with but with Arthur everything was different. Just being near him was both relaxing and nerve-racking.

A waitress came over and took their order. Alfred ordered coffee and a few burgers. Arthur chose some waffles and a cup of tea. Once she had gone, Alfred fished for something to talk about. "Um... Where do you come from? London?" He nodded at the t-shirt.

The Brit clicked his tongue. "Yes. But that's not why I'm wearing this. Francis told me to wear something which told people where I came from. And I found this."

"Ah. Well, I'm from New York."

"I see." In the silence that followed, Arthur glanced round. Alfred followed his gaze and saw that he was gazing at a waitress with a large chest. She had just bent over to place the order on the table of a scruffy-looking man with a lot of stubble. Perhaps a trucker. When Alfred looked back round, Arthur was staring back at him. "So, you're gay?"

"Yup. Or I was the last time I checked. I suppose it was because of my love of superheroes. The ones I like are all guys so, y'know." He grinned and shrugged. "You?"

The other man just raised an eyebrow. "And you've been having sex for money for how long?"

Deciding not to mention his trysts with Francis, Alfred corrected him. "You mean, acting in an adult film, right? A few years now. How come you're just starting out, anyway?"

A blush crept across Arthur's face and Alfred admired him with a small smile. Arthur looked up when the waitress appeared and set their meals in front of them. Alfred pounced on his and began to eat. Perhaps feeling an obligation to continue the conversation, Arthur spoke once he had had a sip of his tea. "I'm an actor. I've been in a few advertisements and some of those picture stories for columns. But... I can't seem to get hired by anyone around here."

"Yeah, L.A. is awful for that," Alfred said with a nod. "What sort of commercials?"

The blush deepened. "For... For medicine... It doesn't matter! Er, I mean... Wh... Why are you doing this, then? You didn't just decide to become one, did you?"

"Nah," said Alfred as he finished off a burger and took a gulp of coffee. "I wanted to be a superhero when I was a kid. Then I grew up and wanted to be an astronaut. But I didn't get into NASA so I tried to become a rocket scientist. But I couldn't keep up with what they were wanting. So I thought I'd make awesome video games. But, uh, I couldn't get accepted to an art school. And my comic books were all rejected. So I thought I'd become an actor." He shrugged. "Unless you're _awesome_ , you don't get into anything round here. Besides, I didn't really have my heart set on it. I was ready to give up on that idea till Francis found me! And he told me what he wanted and I thought: I can do that!"

"I hope he explained it to you better than what he said to me. Those damn hints didn't make a blind bit of sense! And I understood him entirely wrong!" Arthur jabbed a fork into his waffle. "Tsk! Now I hurt all over!"

"Hey, what _did_ you think we were doing?"

Arthur's eyes widened and he glanced out the window. "It... Well... I thought... It doesn't matter, okay?"

"Aw, c'mon. I mean, we've had sex – you can tell me anything!"

" _Would you keep it down?!_ " Arthur hissed across the table.

"Hm?" said Alfred as he polished off his third burger.

"Tsk! Forget it. I'm going home." Arthur pulled out his wallet and threw some bills on the table. Alfred's eyes widened.

"Hey, no, wait!" he exclaimed, grabbing the man's wrist. Arthur looked at him blankly. "Er... Well... Can we meet up before the next filming? We... can talk when you're not tired or grumpy or whatever. Here." He quickly grabbed a napkin and looked round for a pen. One dropped on the table – Arthur had given him one he had in his pocket. The American grinned and scribbled down his number. "Here. Call me, 'kay?"

Arthur took the napkin with a sigh. "I'll think about it. And it will depend on other responsibilities." He slipped it into his pocket with a wince and left. Alfred smiled. He had taken the number so that was something. He stared into space as he ate the rest of his burgers. His eyes widened as he realised that Arthur had left his pen behind. Should he go after him? Or was it a present? He picked it up and stared at it, not noticing that he was wiping his mouth on a napkin with a certain waitress' number on it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original A/N:  
> Er, sorry if Alfred and Francis seem a bit... slutty? And I'm not too clued up on adult films so I don't know whether they actually do it or not (I'm trying to be rather vague, just in case this site doesn't like me for this). But in this one they do cause of Francis' insistence. Though... I don't think any of them mind.
> 
> Some things which will not turn up in the story but are there: There are other people who are filmed. These include GerIta (hence the Italian calling out when Alfred went by), GiriPan, RoChu and DenNor. Tino and Berwald were offered but Tino refused and Berwald didn't want to upset him so they never discussed it further. There is Spamano happening somewhere, just not filmed - Lovino is actually in charge of a business empire (he doesn't do much, it was inherited from his grandfather and all he needs to do is approve of this or that). Antonio goes to visit since he's friends with him and Feliciano (from work) and Lovino, despite saying they're not a couple, always grabs him as soon as he's through the door and drags him to bed. There are other couples which will turn up or be hinted at later so I won't say any more here.
> 
> The advert Arthur acted in - basically the same sort of one Sam from Supernatural had to do that one time in the episode Changing Channels.
> 
> Also, just in case: The point of this story is that Alfred falls in love with Arthur during the filming. But... Arthur doesn't seem to like him back... And the story will revolve around why he doesn't want to... So it's not really about the stuff they do in that hotel... But that will, er, feature heavily.
> 
> Another thing: I know pretty much how many chapters there'll be. Another 4 chapters, an epiloge and then an extra which will be from Arthur's POV.
> 
> Sorry for the badly written adult film scene. Like I said, I wanted to be as vague as possible but then I came across the problem of naming parts without naming them... And I've never really done this before so, um... Sorry. *bows deeply in apology*


	2. Second Meeting

Alfred was terrified that Arthur had quit. He didn't get any calls from him and, whenever he contacted Francis, the director told him he was busy and would discuss it later. He sat in his apartment, staring at his phone, willing Holding Out For a Hero by Bonnie Tyler to play.

His brother noticed the change. "Alfred, I think you should go out," Matthew told him a week after the encounter with Arthur. They were supposed to be filming at night but Alfred had heard no word from Francis about a script.

"Out where?" he asked sullenly.

"A movie, maybe? There's a new hero one out, isn't there?"

The young American glanced up at the blonde. They were twins so they looked really similar. Matthew, however, had violet eyes and a little curl which stuck out instead of a cowlick. He seemed slighter than Alfred but that was perhaps his demeanour rather than his size. "Yeah," he replied. "But I don't wanna go with you... I wanna go with..." he sighed and glanced at his phone.

Matthew smiled as he sat down across from him. He studied Alfred who was lying on his stomach, hugging a pillow and twirling a useless spoon in his fingers – he had already finished the ice cream. "He's really gotten you lovestruck, hasn't he?" he said.

"What?!" exclaimed Alfred, sitting up slightly. "W-Who? I mean... What are you talking about?"

"It's rather obvious, Alfred," Matthew told him gently. "You're in love. Is he from the company?"

Alfred blushed lightly, averting his gaze. "Y-Yes... He was a new start last week. But... He hasn't called me at all. I thought he might just wait a day or two at least. But it's been a week!" He looked at his brother miserably. "I don't think he likes me very much..."

"Well, do not give up. Try your hardest to be understanding and-" Matthew broke off and stared at the phone which was singing about needing a hero.

The lovestruck American grabbed his phone and answered it. "Yo?" he greeted the caller excitedly.

British tones sounded through the earpiece. "Alfred?"

"Arthur?! Is that you? Boy, I thought you weren't gonna call me at all!"

"I... Well, I have some time before tonight. Would you like to go out for dinner? A proper and longer conversation?"

Alfred was thrilled. A date with Arthur! He was so lucky! "Yes! Yes, of course! Meet in that diner again?" he suggested.

"No!" exclaimed Arthur hurriedly. "No... Just... Meet me at The Parish in South Spring Street. I hear it's good."

"Uh, yeah, sure!" said Alfred, not having heard of it before. "I'll be right there!"

"Good. I'll see you soon."

Before Alfred could say anything else, Arthur had hung up. He flipped his phone closed and looked up at Matthew sheepishly. "I won't be in for dinner," he told his brother.

Matthew only smiled and nodded. "I understand. All the more for me and Gil, I suppose."

Grinning, Alfred stood and stretched. "You two are really getting along well," he observed.

"Eh, yes," said Matthew, blushing.

Alfred didn't give Matthew a chance to continue. Staring down at his clothes he began to bemoan how awful he looked. His brother watched him and chuckled before helping him.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Alfred arrived at the restaurant. Arthur was waiting, wearing a black suit, crisp white shirt, neat black tie and shined black shoes. Alfred came up behind him as he was checking his watch. He was wearing a chequered blue, white and red shirt over a plain, dark blue t-shirt. His jeans were low, inviting, a belt inefficiently wrapped around them.

Grinning, he tapped Arthur's shoulder, satisfied when he heard his slight intake of breath. He turned and looked up at Alfred with a startled expression. It made Alfred want to wrap his arms around him and protect the Brit. "Yo!" he said with a grin.

Arthur sighed in relief. "Hello, Alfred," he said. "Shall we go inside?"

"Sure! I can't wait to try this place! Er, it's not too expensive, is it?"

"Don't worry: we should be able to afford it between us." With that Arthur opened the door and held it open for the American. Alfred blushed slightly, happy that he was on a date with such a considerate gentleman. They entered and were faced by a maitre d'.

"Name?" he asked in a bored tone.

"We don't have a reservation," explained Arthur. "But, if possible, we would like a table for two?"

"Hm," said the man, checking his list. "There is one on the upstairs patio. Would that do for you, sir?"

"Indeed, thank you," said Arthur. They followed the employee up the stairs to a table which overlooked the streets. Cars sped by below them and a homeless man shuffled along the sidewalk. They sat and were handed the menus. Arthur nodded his thanks. Alfred followed suit, gazing round at the restaurant. There was a brief silence as "Could we have a bottle of Château Bel Air, please," said Arthur. "No need for anything too fancy," he added to Alfred with a small smile.

The maitre d' nodded his understanding and left to grab a waiter. Once he had gone, Alfred looked across the table at Arthur, a wide smile on his face. "This is... Wow. I mean, I usually just go to diners or McDonald's."

"Yes, well, I prefer better food than that," Arthur replied, rolling his eyes. He was smiling, though, and Alfred felt happy that he had made that happen.

They looked at their menus and Alfred realised why they were there. The food had a little of an English theme to it. Alfred wondered if Arthur was a little homesick. "Hm," he said, drawing Arthur's attention to him. "What do you think I should get?" He ran his eyes over the menu. "Oh, hey! Poutine. My brother loves this stuff."

"Brother? You have a brother?" asked Arthur, sounding interested.

"Yeah, a twin. He's younger. You have brothers?"

"Yes, I do. A few older ones and one younger."

"Oh, cool! Your family must be huge!"

"Of course," said Arthur, though he sounded bitter. Alfred was about to ask when he continued. "You can get poutine if you want. I think I'll go for the pork rib chop. I wish there were some good fish and chips, though."

"How very British," said Alfred in his best attempt at a British accent. Arthur looked up in surprise before laughing.

"That was horrible!" he managed through his laughter.

"I bet you do a horrible American accent," said Alfred with a fake pout.

Arthur grinned at the challenge. "I can sound like an American if I want, y'know," he said in a rather good approximation of the accent. Alfred pouted more.

"Okay, so it was pretty good. But mine can't have been that bad."

"It was good if you want to be in an American film from the 80s," said Arthur with a smirk.

"That's mean!" wailed Alfred, attracting their neighbours' attention.

"Alfred!" whispered Arthur, glancing at the other patrons, a blush forming on his cheeks. "Don't be so loud!"

"Why not?" asked Alfred, grinning now.

The Englishman rolled his eyes. "We have no idea who's here. I have another job, you know. I don't want them catching wind of what I'm doing tonight. I might get fired. Incidentally, why are you not wearing a suit? Francis called me to say that I was to wear a business suit."

With a shrug, Alfred told him, "He didn't call me. Maybe he just wants you to be in a suit? I wish he'd given us the script, though. It would make more sense. I hope it's not some sort of 'trouble in the relationship' scenario tonight. Anyway, what's your other job?"

"It's..." Arthur seemed embarrassed. "A waiter. In a diner. Like the one we were in last week."

"Really? And here I thought you didn't like them," Alfred teased with a grin.

Arthur grimaced. "I don't. That's why I don't like talking about it."

"Aw, c'mon. What else are we going to talk about?"

"Well... Where we come from? Likes, dislikes? People getting to know each other usually start with that sort of thing."

"We already know where we come from, though. We talked about that last week."

"I meant-" Arthur was interrupted by a waiter arriving with their wine. He poured each of them a little and waited for the verdict. Alfred had seen this on TV – you were meant to sniff at it and then swirl a mouthful. If you liked it, you kept it. In fact, as he glanced at his companion, he noticed that he was doing just that. When he put down the glass, he nodded appreciatively. "This is good, thank you. Is it all right for you, Alfred?"

"Uh, well..." Alfred hurriedly sniffed at it. The smell almost made him cough – it did not smell good at all. It was as though the alcohol was going straight into his brain. He suppressed the cough and took a sip, swirling around. It was disgusting. He could taste the grapes, but the alcohol was too strong for him. He needed something sweeter. However, he swallowed and nodded, not trusting himself to speak in case he coughed from the strength.

"Will there be anything else, sirs?" asked the waiter.

Alfred really wanted a soda. But if he asked, would Arthur think him unsophisticated? Would he cut their date short? He glanced at the Brit and saw him surveying him suspiciously. Alfred bit his lip, wondering what to do.

"I think a Coca Cola would be a good idea," Arthur told the waiter who nodded and left.

"Coke?" asked Alfred, trying to grin teasingly.

"It would be best if you could actually drink something without grimacing," said Arthur with a kind smile. His expression made Alfred's heart flutter. He gave Arthur an apologetic look.

"I don't drink wine," he explained. "I prefer alcohol with a disguised taste. Y'know, like, rum and coke, vodka coke, things like that."

The nod of understanding helped to relax Alfred a little. However, he was beginning to get nervous. He had almost ruined their date right at the beginning. He had to get the rest of the night right. He thought ahead to what they were going to be doing: dinner, dessert, trip to the hotel, sex. An image from last week, Arthur's reddened happy face, flashed into his mind. Instantly, he felt himself getting a little hard. _Uh oh,_ he thought. This was going to be harder than he thought...

Arthur was unaware of this, however. He was gazing around the restaurant, admiring the décor. "This place is quite nice. It could do without the homeless people," he added, pointing downwards. "But what can anyone do about it?" he added, shrugging. The action caused his tie to get stuck, crumpled, and he straightened it out, running his hands over his chest. Alfred gulped, wishing the soda would get to their table faster.

"Well, I suppose they could help them to get off the streets?" suggested Alfred, trying not to look into those jade eyes of his.

His partner laughed. "Yes, I suppose that's the most sensible course of action." He stopped for the waiter who returned with the Coke and took their orders. Once he had left, Arthur moved the conversation along. "So, what was New York like to grow up in?"

With a smile, Alfred explained. "Well, it was fun. Y'know, running around, doing kids stuff. I was in the suburbs, after all. But it's just a train ride to Times Square and stuff. I went up the Statue of Liberty more times than I can count! I had a normal enough childhood. My parents moved to L.A. when me and Mattie were sixteen. Mattie has this high-flying job in a company owned by some Italian guy called Vargas or something." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I have absolutely no idea what he does but don't tell him that."

Arthur laughed. "Sounds nice. My family lived in Kensington. That's the rich part of London," he added when Alfred looked confused.

"Oh, so you're rich?"

"My _family_ is rich," Arthur corrected.

"Aren't you by extension?" Alfred prompted.

"No. I don't get any of their money any more." Arthur looked sad suddenly and Alfred felt an ache in his heart. He couldn't do anything to relieve that sadness, he presumed. It was to do with his family and he couldn't fix that. And it hurt Alfred to know that Arthur could be so saddened. "I have to make my own way," Arthur continued with a small smile.

"Family troubles?" Alfred asked, uncharacteristically quiet.

His companion's lips twitched in a half-smile. "Yes... I got into arguments with them quite a lot. My desired career is not... suitable... for them." He sighed. "But I think it will not matter that they will not be present when I make it big. I'll have people surrounding me who support my choices. Even if they're the wrong ones." He gazed out into the distance and Alfred decided to let the subject rest.

He took a sip of his Coke and sighed in relief. Arthur heard the sigh and chuckled when he noticed why. "What?" asked Alfred, pouting slightly. Arthur only shook his head and picked up his glass of wine. "Well, shall we talk about likes and dislikes?"

"A good idea. Do you like to read?"

"Of course I do!" said Alfred with a grin. "I'm always up-to-date with the latest comics! My favourite has to be Captain America! That guy's so epic!" He almost bounced in his chair. Then he noticed Arthur's look of alarm and deflated. "What's wrong?"

"I meant, do you read books...?" said Arthur hesitantly.

"Yeah, comic books!"

"No, I meant novels and novellas."

"What?"

Arthur laughed. "Oh, dear. Are all Americans like this – an aversion to reading!" He continued to laugh at his own joke, not realising how much it hurt Alfred. Feeling that Arthur thought him stupid, he waited till he had finished before looking up at him. The Brit looked suitably guilty. "Sorry... I just-"

"Think I'm like the stereotype of stupid Americans? You're probably right," said Alfred. "Not that it matters much," he added hurriedly, smiling.

"No, I really am sorry. That was... I think I might be more stupid than you... Far more idiotic. I've put my foot right in it, haven't I? Not that- I mean..." Arthur seemed flustered, flushing red and looking at the table.

Alfred smiled at his face – he was very cute when he was embarrassed. "It's okay, Artie. I don't mind. I am definitely an idiot! A proud idiot! Wooga, wooga!" He waggled his arms around and pulled faces. Arthur looked at him in alarm before he relaxed and laughed at him. Grinning, Alfred decided to move the conversation onto Arthur – it was probably safer than acting like a madman. "So, what do _you_ read? Oh, wait, let me guess – you like Harry Potter, right?"

"Oh, so now _you're_ picking up on stereotypes?" asked Arthur, defensively.

"You love it, don't you?"

He narrowed his eyes at Alfred then grimaced at having been figured out. Smiling slightly, he said, "Yes. I love it. Do you know how many layers it has? I mean, in the first one, the Mirror of Erised – reverse Erised and you get Desire. In fact, the inscription above the mirror – _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_ – means I show not your face but your heart's desire. It's in reverse! A _mirror_ image! And then the names of the char-" He broke off when he noticed Alfred's bemused expression and blushed deeply. Once again, Alfred felt his heart skip a beat. "Sorry. I probably shouldn't give you a lecture on something you're not interested in."

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Alfred hurriedly, leaning forward. He almost knocked over his wine glass but he ignored it. Arthur looked alarmed and reached for it as it wobbled. "It's not that I'm not interested! I just have no idea what you're talking about."

Arthur pulled his hand back, his fingers delicately curving in and away from Alfred. The American wanted to reach out and grab it and hold onto it and kiss it. But instead, he watched him place his hand on his lap, shaking his head with an amused expression. "Is that not the same thing?" he asked Alfred.

"No, it isn't. I'd love to know what you think about the books – I just haven't read them so I don't know about this inscription. I've seen the movie. So, the thing on top of the mirror."

The Brit grimaced. "The books are amazing. There are so much that the films cannot go into. And they completely miss out Peeves. And the fact that, once Trelawney was fired by Umbridge, she was replaced by the centaur, Firenze. Neville's parents, too."

"They... died, didn't they?"

"No!" snapped Arthur. "They didn't! That's just it! They're still alive in the books!" He paused, probably noticing Alfred's alarmed expression. "Sorry. Neville's one of my favourite characters."

"Oh..." said Alfred, trying to think of Harry Potter characters he had liked. "I liked... the twins... You know, the ones with the pranks."

"Fred and George," Arthur provided.

"That's the ones! Oh! What was that song...? Viktor, I love you. Viktor, I do..."

Alfred's companion grinned and finished it off for him. "When we're apart my heart beats only for you! "

They grinned at each other for a moment before Alfred spoke again. "So, those are your favourite books?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," said Arthur, waving his hand dismissively. "I like a lot of books."

"Can I guess them all?" Alfred asked with a teasing smile.

"I don't see why not," said Arthur with a mischievous and inviting smile. Alfred almost stopped breathing at that sight.

Making sure he had his breath back, Alfred began his questioning. "Hm... Let's see. Shakespeare?"

"But thy eternal summer shall not fade – such is my love for the works of Shakespeare," said Arthur, still smiling.

"Nailed it! Right... Um... What's that wizard guy? Merlin or something?"

"That's a TV show, not a book. But I did quite enjoy that. And I adored reading the King Arthur legend when I was younger."

"Well, at least I got it right," said Alfred. "In a way," he added as he spotted Arthur's disbelieving look. "And we can get onto TV shows after the books. Right, focus," he said to himself. "Books, books, English... Holmes? Sherlock Holmes? Oh, and Bond, of course."

"Correct on both accounts," said Arthur. He faked surprise for his next comment. "You're doing rather well."

"Haha, I'm just so awesome, that's why!"

"Yes, yes – any other guesses?"

"Um... Other British-bred crime novels?"

Arthur laughed. "That's quite a broad sweep. But, yes, in general, I enjoy a good mystery novel."

"And fantasy. Do you like Game of Thrones, then?"

"Why, yes, I do find that gripping. Well done, dear."

Alfred almost froze when he heard Arthur call him 'dear'. It was such a lovely word and it was directed at _him_. He felt so lucky. But he kept going lest Arthur spotted his slip. "Well... Fantasy... British... Is Lord of the Rings British?"

"Oh, yes. Those books are just brilliant! Have you read them?"

He looked so excited that Alfred wanted to say yes but he knew better than to lie. "No. I read, like, the first chapter and almost _died_ of boredom. The paragraphs were so long and _nothing happened_!"

"Tsk. I should have known," said Arthur with a small scowl. Alfred was alarmed for a moment until he noticed that Arthur's eyes were shining happily. "A lot of people I've met say that. I've never understood that. I read them all when I was ten."

"Holy-! Seriously? Are you, like, some whiz kid?" asked Alfred, his eyes wide in amazement.

Once again, Arthur laughed. It was such a nice sound; Alfred wanted to keep him laughing forever. Ah, but, then he wouldn't be able to kiss him so that was rather out of the question. "No, I just like to read," explained Arthur.

"So... What else do you like to read, then? Any American novels?"

"Well, I do like James Patterson's work. And, for another British novelist, I like The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis. Oh, and not forgetting His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman. Ah-!" He broke off and looked at Alfred sheepishly. "Perhaps we should talk about things you like, Alfred. This list might become quite large."

"Okay..." said Alfred, cursing Arthur's considerateness. He had been wanting to listen to Arthur for longer. "Well, I like movies and TV. Uh, let's see. Star Wars and Star Trek. Stargate. Can't forget the Mission Impossible series."

"So you like explosions and car chases?"

"Well, not just that. I like comedies, too."

"The intellectual sort or the... other sort?"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Does it matter? As long as it makes me laugh, I'm cool with it."

"I take it you like to watch porn too?"

The silence stretched for a moment. "What makes you say that?" asked Alfred, miserably. Arthur thought he was a pervert, he had realised. He was probably only here to be polite.

"No! No, I didn't mean it like that. I-I just thought... Well, I mean. Um..." Arthur wrung his hands on his lap, staring at them. "I'm so sorry. I just thought-"

"- that because of my line of work, I'd be watching porn all the time?"

"No! Well. Yes. But not like that! I mean, out of professionalism or-or something like that."

The bespectacled blonde gazed across the table at Arthur. Why was the man saying insulting things without thinking? Was that what he truly thought? Or was he so nervous that something would slip out that he had pushed to the back of his mind? Should he say something? When Arthur next looked up, Alfred could see he was harassed. He also looked rather worried. His concern for Alfred's feelings made the American smile slightly, encouragingly. "It's okay. People think of me like that when they find out what I do. For some reason, though, girls find me all the more attractive... You'd think it'd be the cute guys."

As Alfred grinned at him, Arthur smiled a little but lowered his eyes. He seemed sad and Alfred once again ached to help him. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Hey, it's okay. Don't look so miserable. Cheer up! We're here for fun!"

Arthur nodded but didn't look up at him. Instead, he chose to look out at the street. Alfred sighed and stood, leaning across the table. This caught Arthur's attention and he turned to look at him, wide-eyed. "What-?" Alfred didn't respond. He grabbed Arthur's face and pulled at his cheeks.

"Smile!" he demanded.

"Alfred! Stop it! Let go of me!"

A cough by their side distracted them both and they looked round. The waiter was standing, waiting for them to get out of his way so he could put the plates down. Alfred hurriedly sat back down and Arthur massaged his face. The plates were set down with a clink and the waiter asked if there was anything else. Arthur sent him away quickly.

For a moment, they sat staring at their scrumptious food and each other. Alfred's stomach grumbled suddenly, slicing through the silence. He gave Arthur, who looked surprised, an apologetic look. The Brit laughed suddenly and Alfred relaxed again, reaching out for his knife and fork. Normally, he would have just scooped it into his gut as quickly as possible to stave off his hunger. Tonight, however, he decided to be more polite. He had to impress Arthur.

Meanwhile, the Brit had taken up his own cutlery and was attempting to cut off a piece of pork. It looked like hard work. For a few minutes, Alfred ate quietly, watching him struggle. Then he swallowed his mouthful. "Do you need help?" he asked.

"N-No..." huffed Arthur, still not getting anywhere. "I can... get it..."

Alfred rolled his eyes with a grin. So he was the kind of person to never ask for help; the kind of person to deal with everything himself. Alfred shrugged and once again leaned across the table. He took Arthur's hands gently in his own. He looked up, surprised and alarmed. Before he could protest, Alfred awkwardly started to cut through the pork, guiding Arthur's hands. He felt rather clever – this was the perfect excuse to hold Arthur's hands.

"Stop. Alfred, stop. This hurts."

Grimacing, Alfred let go hurriedly. "Sorry. I was only trying-" He stopped as he saw Arthur push his plate towards him and held out his knife and fork.

"Um, I'm sorry but could you...?" Arthur asked, blushing and looking away.

"Yeah! 'Course!" He practically grabbed the utensils from Arthur's hands and quickly cut up the pork.

"Thank you," said Arthur as he worked. He sounded relieved and happy. Alfred beamed. When he finally finished, he pushed the plate back and went back to his own meal.

"You sure like to pick difficult things," said Alfred cheerfully though a mouthful of poutine.

Arthur swallowed his mouthful: Alfred watched his Adam's apple bob up and down with fascination. Then he dabbed at his mouth before speaking. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asked, his tone defensive.

"The pork, Lord of the Rings, working in porn," Alfred listed. "Those are all difficult to do. Especially if you're doing me," he added with a grin.

Across the table, Arthur flushed bright red. "Tha- You- Can we not talk about work, please? It is destroying my appetite."

"Huh?" Alfred stared at him worriedly. "Did you- Did you not enjoy last week? Was I that bad?"

"What?! I- You- I mean. It was..." If possible, Arthur had turned a deeper shade of red. Alfred realised that his outburst had been a protest to what he had suggested. Which meant he _had_ liked it. He grinned and reached across to Arthur.

"It's okay. I understand," he said, trying to take hold of his hands.

The Brit pulled his hands away with a scowl. "No. You don't."

Slowly, Alfred pulled his hands back, taking up his cutlery. Miserably, he chewed at his dinner, wondering what was wrong. He was getting so many mixed signals. "Sorry," he mumbled.

After a short pause, Arthur spoke again. "No, I'm sorry. It's just..." He sighed and Alfred looked up to see Arthur looking rather world-weary. "I have a lot of... problems in my life... Please, just... I don't want to talk about either of my jobs while we're eating. I'd rather just relax."

"And have fun?" asked Alfred with a smile. He was still upset but he thought he understood. Or, perhaps, it was a cultural difference and he would never understand.

"And have fun," agreed Arthur with an apologetic smile. "How is your poutine?"

"It's great!" exclaimed Alfred. "Wanna try a bite?"

"If you wouldn't mind. Though... most of it seems to have... disappeared," he added, pointedly.

Alfred looked down at his mostly empty plate before grinning up at Arthur. "I was hungry," he said. He scooped some up and held it out to Arthur. He was half-hoping that he would let Alfred feed him. Unfortunately, Arthur gently took the fork from Alfred and put it in his mouth. Alfred watched in awe as he slowly took the food from the fork and chewed. When he swallowed, Alfred couldn't suppress a gasp. The Brit looked up in alarm and frowned questioningly. Embarrassed, Alfred glanced away and took back the fork.

"It _is_ good," Arthur conceded. "Do you want to try a bit of the pork?"

With a smile, Alfred nodded. "That'd be nice," he said. He watched as Arthur stabbed a thick, juicy piece of pork and held out the fork. He obviously expected Alfred to take the fork away from him to eat but, instead, Alfred leaned forward. Taking hold of Arthur's hand, he pulled the pork off and chewed at it, gently letting go of Arthur. His fingers brushed lightly along the other's hand before he sat straighter.

The reaction to this simple contact was satisfactory to Alfred. Arthur gasped and dropped his fork in his haste to retract his hand. It landed with a clatter and Arthur realised too late that it would hit his plate. Trying to catch it, he reached out – and sent his glass of wine toppling to the floor of the patio. It landed with a crashing sound and the wine splashed everywhere. A murmur ran round the restaurant as everyone craned to see what the commotion was all about.

A waiter came hurrying over. "I am so sorry," said Arthur breathlessly, making as if to get up to help.

"That is quite all right, sir. I'll clean up – you continue with your meal. I'll bring you another glass."

Once he had left, Arthur grabbed Alfred's glass and poured himself some wine. He downed it in a few gulps – each one causing Alfred's breath to catch – before setting it down with a clatter and a scowl.

"You okay?" Alfred asked hesitantly, worried he would be upset at him.

"Yes, I'm fine. Sorry about that," he replied.

"No problem. Hey, the pork's good. You should eat it up."

Arthur rolled his eyes with a laugh. "Yes, mum."

Laughing, Alfred finished off his poutine. The waiter returned with another glass and poured wine in it for Arthur who sipped at it, looking quite calm and civil now. Alfred placed his elbow on the table, his chin in his hand. He watched Arthur eating, his eyes lidded, revelling in every swallow. It was amazing how attractive he was.

When Arthur had finally finished, he looked up at Alfred. "Dessert?" he asked.

"Definitely!"

The Englishman smiled and caught the waiter's attention with a wave of two fingers. He came over and Arthur asked for sticky toffee pudding. Alfred opted for some ice cream with plenty of chocolate sauce.

On their own again, Alfred decided to continue their conversation. "So, what's your favourite colour?"

"Green. Yours?"

"I can never decide between red and blue."

"Ah, you are appropriately dressed, I see. Your... favourite animal, then? Since we're playing twenty questions." He grinned at Alfred and the American felt excited. Arthur was willing to play along. _That must mean he's interested in me,_ he thought to himself.

"Dogs. And yours?"

"Hm, close call between rabbits and cats. Just like your colour dilemma, I can never decide."

"Aw, that's so cute!" exclaimed Alfred. Arthur grimaced. "Or sweet, if you'd prefer that," Alfred covered with a teasing smile.

"Har de har," said Arthur flatly though his eyes were sparkling with amusement.

"Well... Let's see. Favourite bird? Mine's an eagle."

"Figured as much," Arthur replied, smiling slightly. "Well... A bird, hm? I've always liked robins. But I suppose a parrot would be good if I was ever going to be a pirate."

Alfred guffawed so loudly that some other patrons turned to stare and a couple of waiters stopped in alarm. "I'd _love_ to see you be a pirate. I can't wait till Halloween now!"

"Who says I'll be dressed as a pirate?"

"Aw, c'mon! You _have_ to now!"

"I don't have to do anything. And it will entirely depend on the kind of Halloween parties I get invited to."

"Well, you'll definitely be invited to mine and Mattie's. And it's a general thing so you can wear whatever you like. Ah, but... Don't come as a ghost or creepy monster."

"Whyever not?" asked Arthur in surprise.

"Ghosts and monsters really creep me out..." said Alfred sheepishly, staring at the empty table.

"Oh, Alfred. There's nothing to be scared of. Especially from people dressed up as them."

"That's worse – I was bullied by a kid dressed as a ghost one Halloween. It frightened me so much, I thought I was gonna die from fright! Poor Mattie had to beat them away with his hockey stick. He was dressed as a hockey player that year," he added by way of explanation when Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"I see," said Arthur as the desserts came. Alfred almost bounced in his seat as he saw the mound of ice cream before him. He tucked in immediately. "Wait! You'll-" Arthur began but Alfred stopped listening as he moaned and whined at the brain freeze. "-get brain freeze..." finished Arthur with a soft chortle.

The conversation dried up as they ate: Alfred was having problems with his ice cream and the pain in his head. This time, Arthur finished first and he sat, wincing each time Alfred did in sympathy. This just made him all the more attractive in Alfred's opinion.

Finishing, Alfred glanced across the table to Arthur. "I'm okay – I survived!"

"Barely," said Arthur, raising those large eyebrows with a smile. Alfred almost sighed dreamily but snapped himself out of it. The realisation of just how much he was in love with this man hit him at that moment – his brother was right. He'd never felt like this in his life. He felt so happy he could hardly contain it; he felt anxious and nervous; he felt so much more stupid than he already thought of himself; he could feel his heart tightening every time Arthur looked away or drew away or snapped at him. But, the big question for Alfred was, did Arthur feel the same? And what should he do about this?

* * *

They arrived together at the designated room. Alfred's hand had been twitching the whole walk there, itching to hold Arthur's. The Brit seemed unaware, checking his watch and bemoaning that they were going to be late. Alfred just laughed it off, saying that he was always late. Arthur had not been amused and told him that a gentleman was never late.

When they entered, they found Francis, Gilbert and Antonio waiting for them. "The prodigal son returns!" said Francis, speaking to Alfred. "Et our newest member is back. Bien!"

"Yes, yes," said Arthur with a scowl. "Can we just get on with this? In a few hours, I need to be..." He trailed off and glared at the three members of the crew. "I need to be at an appointment, so hurry this up."

"In a few hours?" asked Alfred, glancing at his own watch. "You mean in the morning?"

"Yes."

"Lighten up, dude. We only ever film at night."

Arthur, who was standing quite close to Alfred, leaned in to whisper in his ear. "I'll let you in on a little secret, dear," he said, the word 'dear' sending tingles up Alfred's spine. "There's something called sleep. I rather like it and I'd like to be refreshed in the morning." He straightened up and advanced on Francis. "So? Where's the script?"

The Frenchman sighed and shook his head. "Voíla," he said, handing over a few sheets of paper. Arthur quickly read over it with an occasional snort of derision. Then he turned and headed for the door.

"Shall I stand outside to begin with?" he called over his shoulder.

"If you could, s'il vous plait."

He obeyed, the door closing quietly behind him. Alfred stared at the door for a moment before snapping out of it. He took the script wordlessly, trying not to reveal how hard he was now nor that he was aching because Arthur had disappeared from his sight.

"Al, are you okay?" asked Gilbert. "You seem a little... preoccupied?"

"I-I'm fine," he managed to blurt out, roving his eyes across the pages. It was a good scene – the partner who had been working all day comes home tired. The one already there took it upon themselves to wait for them before they go to bed, wanting to have some fun. "Do you want any changes to what I'm wearing?" he asked Francis as he returned the script.

"Oui. Take your tops off, s'il vous plait." Alfred did so. Once they were in a pile in the corner, he tugged at his jeans, pulling them up a little. "Non, non, cher," said Francis, moving forward. He tugged them back down a little so that they were hanging from his hips again. "That looks trés bien."

Alfred rolled his eyes, his mind wandering. Francis had told him once what "cher" meant. He had been thrilled to be called it to begin with. Now it had no effect on him. But Arthur saying the same word in English in that very British accent of his... A tingle went up his spine again as his brain called up the memory of Arthur's voice.

The cameras turned to the door. Alfred moved to the foot of the bed but stayed standing, a hand on one hip, the other jutting out a little. Francis settled in his chair. Antonio raised his mic. "Action!" called Francis.

For a moment, nothing happened. Alfred thought Francis would have to shout action again. Then the door opened and Arthur entered. He looked weary and miserable and completely appeared to be someone so exhausted that they should go straight to bed. Alfred ignored the sudden impulse to hurry forward and help him to the bed. He also tried to ignore how sexy he was suddenly finding Arthur in his suit. Especially since he was ignoring everyone and taking off his tie. And he was loosening it so damned slowly.

Eventually, he had it off and he threw it to the side, the tie fluttering towards the camera before falling daintily to the floor. Alfred watched its arc and he was sure the viewers would be captivated. Then Arthur moved, straightening and stretching, catching Alfred's attention. He looked up at him and he found the man looking straight at him. For a moment, both of them froze. Then Arthur's brow slowly furrowed in confusion and annoyance.

"Alfred..." he said, tiredly. "Not tonight. Please. I'm way too tired for this..."

The cameras began to swing round and Alfred composed himself quickly, turning his surprised expression into a grinning, teasing one. "Aw, c'mon, Artie. You've been so busy lately. And I've been lonely."

"Yes, yes, whatever you say," said Arthur, moving forward. "I'm just going to go to sleep, all right? You'll just have to wait a little longer until I've finished with this case and-" He didn't get any further – he had walked close enough to Alfred for him to grab the Brit and send him flying onto the bed. Alfred followed, crouching over him on his hands and knees.

"I need you," he told Arthur, his eyes bearing all the conviction he felt. He really needed Arthur. Right this second, he needed and wanted him.

Briefly, Arthur looked surprised. Then he clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. "Look, I'm not going to play your games, Alfred. I'm _really_ tired. I could barely stay awake for most of the proceedings and-" Once again he was interrupted, this time with an open-mouthed kiss from Alfred. This wasn't in the script but Alfred was past caring. He straightened, wondering what Arthur would do now. " _Alfred_ ," he said in a warning tone. He wasn't sure if he was reminding him about the script or still acting as the lawyer he was supposed to be.

"Yes, honey?" asked Alfred, innocently.

"Stop it," he said shortly. He tried to sit up but was met by Alfred's face. "Let me up," he ordered. "I need to get out of these cloth-" He stopped when he seemed to realise what was about to come next.

"You want out of these? I'll help, of course," Alfred offered with a grin. He grabbed one of Arthur's shoes and tugged it off, ignoring his protests. His socks and shoes were soon flying over his shoulder. He didn't care if they hit anyone. Finally rid of them, he pulled at his jacket.

"Alfred!" Arthur exclaimed as he whacked the American's hands away. "I'm telling you to stop it! Why can't you listen to me? You never listen!" Alfred froze and Arthur rolled onto his side. "If you're not going to let me get up to get changed, I'll just sleep like this." Alfred watched him curl up his legs a little.

He realised he had almost forgotten his lines. The shock of being rejected had pushed it to the back of his mind. But now the rejection made sense. With a growl he flipped Arthur over so he was lying on his back again. He used one hand to pin his arms above him and stared down at him, into his eyes. "Arthur. I may not listen to you at times like this but neither do you. Don't you hear what I'm saying? I need you." Alfred tugged his jeans down, revealing his tented underwear. "I really need you."

"Can't you take care of it yourself?" asked Arthur, seemingly without thinking.

The tears, which usually didn't come naturally during filming, welled up. This was too real now. He wanted Francis and the others to get out. He wanted to tell Arthur how much he loved him. But instead he continued – he had a job to do. "I... I waited for you," he said quietly. "I don't want to have to take care of it myself. I _want_ you."

Silence descended for a moment. The two actors looked at each other. Alfred was trying to hold back tears. Arthur looked rather alarmed. Then his expression softened. "Alfred... Darling, I'm sorry," he said. And those words pierced Alfred's heart, making him love Arthur all the more. 'Darling'. He had called him 'darling'.

"It's fine. Just... let me. Please."

"Oh, very well," said Arthur. "But let go of my hands."

Alfred had a sudden idea. "I'm letting them go for now but... where's your tie?" He stood up and kicked his jeans away, searching for the slip of material. He found Francis dangling it in front of him. Frowning, Alfred glanced at the cameras and saw that they were pointed at the bed, filming Arthur taking off his jacket. Turning back to Francis, he grabbed the tie and hurried back. "No, stop!" he declared.

"What? Why?" asked a confused Arthur. He threw his jacket into the corner, frowning at Alfred.

"You're not allowed to do anything."

"Huh?"

"Look, just..." Alfred took Arthur's hands and gently pulled them above his head, forcing him to lie down again. With the tie, he bound his wrists together.

"Wait. What are you doing?!" exclaimed Arthur. Alfred wasn't sure if he was genuinely alarmed since the script was being abandoned or if he was acting. If it was the former, he kept it together rather well, not once glancing at the others in the room.

Smiling, Alfred leaned over and kissed Arthur's neck. It was a gentle, reassuring kiss and, when he straightened to look at Arthur, he found the Brit gazing at him in puzzlement rather than alarm. "I just want to make it up to you – for not letting you get your sleep. I'll do everything. You just lie there and relax."

Reluctantly, Arthur nodded. "You're not going to..." he began and trailed off.

"What?"

"You're not going to..." Arthur said, blushing, sending Alfred's heart into overdrive. "Use... whips... Or..."

Alfred laughed. "No. I won't hurt you, Arthur." He seemed reassured and nodded at Alfred. The American grinned and pressed his lips against Arthur's. Before Arthur could kiss back, however, he pulled away and kissed at his cheekbone. Then at his eyebrows, his mouth again and then at his jaw.

"Um, Alfred, what on Earth are you doing? Are you a bird?" Arthur asked, hesitantly. Alfred snorted in amusement and shook his head. "Then, what-?"

Placing a finger at Arthur's lips, Alfred shook his head. "Shush. Let me work here." Arthur looked very amused at that line and Alfred felt very proud of himself – he hadn't meant it to tie in with their theme for the day (whatever that was) but it had worked. He was so busy marvelling at his genius that he was taken completely by surprise when Arthur licked at his finger. He froze and watched as Arthur's tongue traced its way to his fingertip before slowly enveloping it with his mouth. Alfred gasped and moaned in pleasure. Damn, had he been researching all week? How could he have gotten so good in one week?

Not wanting to disturb his partner, Alfred leaned over and kissed at his neck, this time using his teeth and leaving marks. Arthur hummed around his finger and nibbled at it too. Since they were both nibbling, Alfred decided to shift and this time he nibbled on Arthur's ear. He felt and heard a questioning hum from Arthur so he stopped and sat up again, smiling down at Arthur as he continued to move his tongue around Alfred's finger, sucking at it a little. Alfred wondered how long he would keep this up for. He watched him for a moment, surveying his red cheeks and his messy hair. A strand of the blonde locks had fallen over his eye and Alfred gently brushed it aside. Then his hand continued down the side of Arthur's face – the Brit leaned into the touch, biting at Alfred's knuckle – down his neck and stopped at his chest. Arthur was still wearing his shirt. Urgently, Alfred began to pull at it, trying to remove it with one hand.

His finger was freed as Arthur chuckled. "Do you need some help, dear?" he asked, grinning mischievously up at him. Alfred frantically shook his head and used both hands to pull and tug until the buttons had become undone. Arthur watched calmly, an amused expression present throughout. Annoyed, when he finally got his shirt open enough to see his chest, Alfred immediately leaned over and bit at one of his nipples. He relished the gasp from Arthur.

"What was that about help?" he asked, reaching down between Arthur's legs.

"Ah, no, don't touch there yet!" exclaimed Arthur, worriedly. But he was too late, for Alfred already had his hand on the bulge in his pants. "Ah!" the Brit gasped. Alfred was pleased at the reaction and so began to rub at him. "N-N-ah!" said Arthur even as he bucked into Alfred's hand. The American froze and gazed down at his partner.

"Do you think I can make you come just from this?" he asked, innocently.

"D-Don't! I won't let you-ah!" Arthur tried to say even as Alfred rubbed at him. "I won't let you," he panted, "go any further... if you make me come... now." This had the desired effect and Alfred quit rubbing at him.

"But Arthur!" he whined. "I want to hear you make those amazing sounds again!"

After a moment's hesitation, Arthur said, "Come down here. Closer to my mouth."

Alfred obeyed instantly. "Do you want a kiss-?" Alfred began. But Arthur stopped him by moaning and groaning in his ear. Alfred was panting by the time Arthur stopped and he sat back up. He shifted uncomfortably, the bulge in his underwear so painfully obvious. For a moment they looked at each other, each wordlessly asking what was next on the agenda.

"If you want to, you can just go straight for it," said Arthur generously. "Just... Let me, uh, lubricate your fingers first."

"Lubrica-? Oh, you want to suck on my fingers? Fine by me!" Alfred held out his hand.

"No, dolt – after you've taken off my trousers."

"Oh. Yeah, sorry." Alfred quickly unbuckled Arthur's belt and tugged at his pants and underwear until he had gotten them completely off. He tossed them to the side, his underwear following them. He looked back down at Arthur – his shirt was still on him, held on by his arms and the fact that he was lying on it. It turned Alfred on much more than before and he moaned involuntarily. "God, Arthur – you are so sexy," he muttered. This caused Arthur to blush deeply and Alfred hummed his approval. "And cute when you blush. Cute and sexy and amazing – and British."

This caused Arthur to laugh. "British? What does that have to do with anything?"

"It has everything to do with it. Your accent is sexy and whenever you say anything, it sends me shooting straight up. If you know what I mean," he added with a wink.

Arthur's blush darkened. "Idiot," he muttered.

"Oh, yes!" breathed Alfred, a teasing grin on his face.

"Just get on with it, will you?"

"Ah, but I could come just listening to you!"

"Really? Then perhaps I should lecture you on the etiquette of good sex – never leave your partner hanging or feeling unsatisfied. Hurry it up!"

"Well, that's just not nice, Artie. You should ask me nicer."

"What?! I thought we were doing it once you'd taken off my trousers!"

"You didn't ask nicely," said Alfred, ignoring him. He leaned over, keeping his arms and legs to either side of his partner, avoiding touching him. Letting his tongue flick out, he licked gently at Arthur – at his stomach, his nipples, his collarbone. Each time he received a gasp.

"Alfred," panted Arthur. "Alfred, please."

"'Please' what?" asked Alfred, innocently.

Arthur propped himself up on his elbows and Alfred looked up at his lust-filled eyes. "Please," he pleaded again. "I need you inside me."

That was all Alfred needed. He pushed Arthur back down, lifted his legs, spread them and then stuck his fingers into Arthur's mouth. The man urgently sucked and licked at them. Pulling them out, a string of saliva came with it and broke but Alfred didn't dwell on that, quickly pushing into Arthur. The smaller man gasped and bucked. Alfred merely pressed his lips to Arthur's forehead and pushed another finger in. Once he had three in, Arthur gasping and squirming beneath him, he stretched him out.

Finally, he pulled his fingers out and manoeuvred himself into a better position. Then he pushed in, slowly. Arthur tried to relax but he was gasping and holding his tie tightly. Alfred was accepted but the other tensed around him and he almost came right there. Grunting, he pushed in further until he was as far as he could go.

"Ah-Al... fred..." gasped Arthur.

"Artie. God," breathed Alfred, realising something. It was too late now but he had completely forgotten about the condoms. He could feel Arthur all around him – and it was so good.

He began to move, thrusting in and out. Each time he moved all the way into Arthur, the man yelled out. To begin with, it was just random cries. Then he began to shout out Alfred's name. "Alfred! Alfre-ah! Al!" The American absolutely loved it. He began to move faster: Arthur shouted his name more often, followed by groans. He tried to move deeper and Arthur suddenly tensed and bucked as Alfred hit his prostate. "Alfred! I-ah!"

"Artie, Artie, you're so good," Alfred panted, thrusting in deeper and faster. He felt like he couldn't stop. Yet he could feel himself coming close. The pressure from Arthur, the moaning, his name being called. Finally, he couldn't take it any more. "Artie. Coming," he grunted.

"Not. In. Me," panted Arthur, still bucking his hips. "No. Condom," he gasped.

"Can't," mumbled Alfred as he came against Arthur's sweet spot. The American watched as Arthur came too, the sticky substance covering his stomach. Breathing heavily, Alfred dropped down beside Arthur, removing himself from his partner as he flopped down. He wrapped his arms around Arthur, wrapping his legs around the Brit's.

"Alfred," muttered Arthur sleepily.

"Yeah?" he replied, kissing Arthur's shoulder.

"Can you untie me?"

"Sure," he conceded, tugging at the material so that it slipped off. Once it had fallen to the folds of the now messy bed, Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred. The American was ecstatic and wrapped his arms around the Englishman's waist.

"We should get some sleep," said Arthur, burying his head in Alfred's shoulder.

"Yeah."

"Especially since we need to get up early tomorrow."

"Hm?"

"Well, if we don't get up early, we can't have sex before I go to work."

Alfred, who had been nodding off, suddenly woke up, his eyes widening. "Huh?" he asked, both happy and surprised.

"Coupez!" came a French voice from the edge of the room. It shocked Alfred and he sat up, confused for a moment. He remembered where he was a moment later when Arthur pushed his arms off and hurriedly stood up.

"Urgh," he said. He didn't elaborate but he didn't need to when he turned to Francis and asked him, "Are there showers here?"

"Oui. This is an en suite. Through that door there."

Alfred watched with wide eyes as Arthur gathered his clothes without looking at him. Then he disappeared through the door. He blinked once he had gone and looked round at the three other men present. Francis had his hands between his legs – he looked like he needed to get off somehow. Gilbert was squirming in his seat, his phone in his hand – he was probably going to call Mattie. Antonio had a slight blush but he was still smiling obliviously. Alfred gathered up his own clothes and grabbed a tissue: he'd shower when he got home. "Was that, uh, good?" he asked, though he knew the answer.

"Bien! Trés bien! Ah, you had moi reaching for my zip!" exclaimed Francis. "You have real chemistry with this man. This is bien. It adds realism to your acting et your sex is explosive." He paused to wink. "There is something else... You are different somehow..."

Deciding not to tell Francis about how he felt, Alfred shrugged. "Uh... I had dinner at a fancy restaurant before coming here."

"Vraiment?" asked Francis, an eyebrow raised. Alfred had a feeling that he knew what was going on.

"Yeah. It was tasty. And I'd love to go back again and try more." _With Arthur._

"Would you like moi to take you there again?"

"No, thanks. You wouldn't like it, anyway."

Pulling on his clothes, Alfred caught part of Gilbert's conversation. "Mattie," he whined. "I really need to come over... But, Mattie!"

With a grin, Alfred bounced over and whispered in Gil's ear. "Just go over. He'd _love_ to see you."

It was at this exact moment that Arthur emerged from the bathroom. Alfred spun round, frightened he would think he was doing something with Gilbert. The Brit simply glanced at them before heading for the door.

"Leaving already, mon amour?" asked Francis

"Yes. I will see you next week everyone. Goodnight." And with that, he was gone and Alfred was left with a horrible sinking feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original A/N:  
> So, uh. This turned out to be longer than expected. (14 pages?!) My basic idea was: they meet up for dinner, they go to the hotel, they do their job, end chapter. And then I got to the conversation and it kind of just flowed out of me.
> 
> The Parish is an actual restaurant and I have no idea how it looks, etc. I got the discription of the street below from a review and actually glanced at their menu. The menu didn't have desserts but the review said something about sticky toffee pudding. It's a gastropub, by the way, which is just a fancy pub or a strange restaurant by the sounds of it. It really does have poutine on the menu.
> 
> The birds are their national birds. (But the parrot was just as an afterthought.)
> 
> The conversation and Arthur's attitude is all over the place. There's a reason for this but, still.
> 
> I don't like wine. So I have no idea about it. That's why there's that mess of a description. I didn't think Alfred was a wine kinda person - I would guess he'd love sweet cocktails and things that tasted almost of Coke.
> 
> The thing about the condom... I started writing the section with Alfred, er, going in(?) and completely forgot to mention one. So I just decided it would be interesting to have him not have one on cause he'd been too caught up in the moment to put one on.
> 
> Holding Out For a Hero came to mind cause Alfred likes heroes. And I have absolutely no idea where that came from other than I thought it was called Hero.
> 
> {As an aside, after these events, Antonio trooped over to Lovino's and they, er, did it on Lovi's desk. Gil went in a taxi with Al to their apartment and Mattie let him in - Al played games while they went into their bedroom. Francis disappeared. No-one knows what he got up to. Arthur went home.}
> 
> Arthur actually pronounces the Mirror of Erised inscription correctly. He also uses a quote from Sonnet 18 for the Shakespeare mention. (I almost made a very grave error. For some reason I thought Robert Burns' "My love is like a red, red rose" was part of a Shakespearean sonnet. O.o ) His favourite character is Neville mainly so he has a reason for his outburst but also cause it makes sense considering his family history. A little. Also, I like Neville, okay?
> 
> Alfred's favourite colours are red and blue cause a lot of heroes have those colours. What he's wearing was just a coincidence when I was writing but quite a happy one.


	3. Third Man

"Bowling?"

"Yeah, you know – with the balls and the pins."

"Yes, I had gathered that. I doubt there are many bowling greens in Los Angeles."

"What?"

Arthur's sigh filtered through Alfred's phone, sending a tingle down his spine. He grinned as he held a blue and green striped shirt in front of him. For a moment he gazed at it then wrinkled his nose in disgust and threw it into a pile of clothes which he had designated 'God, why did I buy this?' He reached into the wardrobe again. _Why do I have nothing green?_ he thought as Arthur spoke once more, pulling his attention back to the Brit. "Never mind. Where shall I meet you?"

"There's one called Lucky Strike Entertainment on South Figueroa Street. They do these great mini burgers and Belgian fries and stuff. So we can still eat before work. This'll be more fun and, y'know, we still get to hang out," explained Alfred quickly as he crouched down to look on the floor of the wardrobe.

"Hm, I see," said Arthur. "In an hour, you say?"

"Yup! See you there?"

"Naturally," replied Arthur, his tone one of disbelief. It was almost as if he was questioning Alfred's doubt.

"Cool!" exclaimed Alfred, his heartbeat slowing. He had been so nervous calling Arthur to ask him to meet up. Although he wanted to call it a date, he was being cautious and was only considering it a 'get-together'. But he was still hopeful that it actually was one.

"If you say so. Well, goodbye for now, Alfred."

"Bye!" breathed Alfred, smiling. He listened to Arthur hanging up before flicking his phone shut. Biting his lip for a moment, he drew the cell to his mouth before giving it a quick kiss. Feeling giddy, he tossed it onto his bed before searching the rest of his clothes for something green.

* * *

When Alfred finally arrived, he was wearing a pale green shirt over a white t-shirt. He had been lucky that Mattie had the desired colour of shirt when he had checked. Alfred hoped, though, that he wouldn't be too annoyed by the slight mess of his wardrobe now – the clothes seemed to have had a mind of their own and wouldn't hang up neatly again. Most of them were now at the bottom.

Arthur was waiting outside. As Alfred approached, he surveyed him from top to toe. He had a thin grey jacket covering a t-shirt. On closer inspection, it even had a picture of The Beatles. His jeans were black and his belt had a yellow submarine on it. The shoes he was wearing were smart and black like before. Alfred was surprised that Arthur still looked crisp and smart with his casual clothes.

"Did Francis ask you to wear something British again?" asked Alfred as he came to a stop beside him.

Raising his head, Arthur looked directly into Alfred's blue eyes. "No. I just... happened to wear this."

"So you like The Beatles, then?"

"Who doesn't?"

Alfred decided that he shouldn't say that he hadn't really listened to them all that much. "Well... Wanna go inside, then?" Arthur nodded so Alfred led him inside. In the entrance, he added, "Wanna get food first or go settle in at our lane?"

"I'm fine with whatever you decide," said Arthur with a glance at Alfred. The American's heart started to beat faster.

"L-Let's make sure we get a lane first," Alfred managed to say, breathlessly. The Brit only nodded his acceptance.

Inside, Alfred paid for their lane – he had to insist that he paid for it so Arthur would put his wallet away – and then led his companion to the correct place. There, he watched Arthur take off his jacket and felt a thrill of excitement that, later, he would get to take all those clothes off him. He smiled at Arthur whose mouth twitched in a small smile.

"I'll go get some food if you'd like to set up," he said to Alfred suddenly, making the young American blink.

"Oh, yeah, sure!" Alfred agreed as he fished for his money again. However, before he could even grab the notes in his pocket, Arthur had walked away.

"I'll pay for it," he said over his shoulder.

For a moment, Alfred stood staring, his hand still in his pocket. Then he smiled, his eyes half-lidded in a dreamy expression, as he marvelled at how amazing the other man was. Forcing himself to concentrate, he shook his head, took a breath and keyed in his and Arthur's name into the computer. Afterwards, he tested the balls, finally settling on one for himself. He picked out a slightly lighter one for Arthur.

"Is this enough food?" asked a voice behind him. Alfred almost dropped a bowling ball in shock. Spinning round he found Arthur had piled up the table chock full of mini burgers, chicken wings, tacos and fries. He stared at it.

"Didn't that cost a lot?" he asked, worried. He hadn't expected the Brit to buy so much food. True, Alfred was hungry and would probably eat most of it, but this was more than he had expected when Arthur had stalked off.

"Oh, is it too much?" asked Arthur, grimacing.

"No! No, it's just..."

"Then just forget about the cost," Arthur interrupted, looking relieved. Alfred's heart skipped a beat.

"Well, uh, I put you in first... So get up there!" Alfred grinned at Arthur who gazed up at the screen to confirm that he had, indeed, been appointed the first position. The reason was simple – Alfred wanted to watch Arthur first. Watch him lift the ball; watch him bend over slightly to take the shot; watch him release it; watch him in his exuberance if his shot was a good one. Alfred could hardly wait and was almost bouncing in excitement. However, he forced himself to calm down and sat on the bench, reaching for a wing as he watched Arthur step towards the ball rack.

The one Alfred had picked out for Arthur was ignored by the man and, instead, Arthur picked up a slightly heavier ball. Alfred was amused to see that it was a deep green. Arthur was unaware of this and hefted it into a better position. Watching his muscles tensing, Alfred bit into his wing to stop himself making happy noises – no need to make the Brit aware of how much Alfred loved to watch him. He was glad a few seconds later that his noises were muffled when Arthur bent over to let his ball fly. The jeans were tight around his ass and Alfred found himself imagining himself taking Arthur from behind, the bowling alley abandoned sufficiently for them to have some fun.

The noise of the ball hitting the pins jolted Alfred from his fantasy and he hoped his red cheeks could be attributed to the heat from the wings. Hearing Arthur click his tongue, Alfred craned his neck to see how many he had knocked over. Two pins were left standing – on either side of the lane. "Oooh! Unlucky!" he called to his companion. Arthur turned and shrugged. He headed to the ball rack and picked up another one to throw. Alfred watched avidly, staring at Arthur's back in wonder. When Arthur had finished, with one pin left standing, he came over and dropped down beside Alfred. The American beamed at him. "Hard luck!"

"Yes, well..." said Arthur as he picked up a chicken wing. "Your turn." He carefully bit into the chicken and Alfred watched his lips and teeth as he did so. As Alfred stood, however, Arthur breathed sharply in. Looking down, Alfred saw him grimacing.

"Too hot?" he asked with a cheeky grin. "And you forgot to buy drinks. Hang on." And with that he rushed off, thankful that he could help Arthur out. He hurried to the nearby kiosk and ordered a couple of milkshakes. Unfortunately, there was something wrong with their machine and they were only able to make one. So Alfred returned to their lane with one shake and two straws, ecstatic that he would be able to share it with Arthur. He handed it over to the Brit who gratefully took a sip and sighed in relief.

"Thank you. You should probably hurry and take your shot, though," Arthur said, nodding towards the ball rack. Alfred nodded and picked out his ball. When he stood with the heavy ball in hand, he wondered if Arthur would be watching his muscles, his body, his ass. Alfred bit his lip to keep in his excitement and took his shot. It was hard and fast and rolled straight down the middle, knocking every pin over. He gave a whoop of joy before turning to a stunned Arthur. "Bugger," said the Englishman. "You're going to win this game, aren't you?"

"Definitely! But, hey, don't worry about it. I don't take it all that seriously. You just have to do a forfeit if you lose!"

"And what would that be?" inquired Arthur as Alfred sat down beside him.

"You have to admit that Americans are better in sports than the British!"

Arthur gave Alfred a shocked expression and theatrically gasped. "That's fighting talk, my lad!"

This made Alfred ridiculously happy and he moved out of the way. "Your turn!"

As Arthur rose, he grinned down at Alfred. "I won't lose!"

* * *

Two games and an hour later, Arthur was sighing as he sat next to an eager Alfred. "Well?" said Alfred, gazing at him. Arthur's green eyes rose to his and Alfred's heart fluttered. However, he kept himself from showing this and grinned at the Brit, waiting for him to speak.

With a sigh, Arthur finally said it. "Americans are better at _some_ sports than the British."

"Ah, ah! It's all sports, remember?"

"Do you really want to admit that Americans are better at cricket than the British?"

"Oh... Nah, that'll do, I suppose," admitted Alfred. "So, shall we play some arcade games before we go to work. I mean, I had fun but we didn't get a chance to talk much."

"Does it really matter if we talk or not?" asked Arthur as he took hold of his jacket. "As long as we have fun together, we don't need to speak."

Alfred felt as if his heart had grown to twice its normal size with love. This man – this mysterious, gorgeous and clever man – enjoyed his company so much he didn't need to speak to him to enjoy himself. With a smile on his face, Alfred frantically nodded his agreement. "But we should still go play some games, yeah?"

"If you wish," said Arthur, standing. Alfred followed suit before leading him off to the arcade part of the establishment. Once there, he dragged the smaller man to a zombie game and hefted a fake shotgun.

"Wanna play this?" he asked with a large grin.

Arthur was looking at him with an amused look. "I take it that you enjoy playing video games, then?"

"My living room is full of 'em," said Alfred, proudly.

"Do you have a favourite?" quizzed Arthur as he picked up his own gun and put coins into the machine.

"Oh, there are so many! Assassin's Creed, Left 4 Dead, Portal... Though, I keep getting stuck at Portal and then I forget about it for ages only to go back to it and find myself still stuck."

The game started and they picked their characters. "Portal is the one where you have to work out how to get across a room with a gun, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It makes portals. But it gets harder as you go along. It's this huge experiment and the character's locked in."

"I see," said Arthur, frowning at the screen. "Why do we have to go through this prologue? I'm pretty sure we understand what we need to do, yes?"

"Yeah," agreed Alfred, pulling a face. "Just gotta wait for it, I guess."

When the game finally came up, they stopped their conversation in favour of playing. Their only speech was to help each other out. In the back of his mind, Alfred marvelled at how co-ordinated they were together. He could almost feel his love growing more than it had already.

Finally, their money ran out and, since there were other games to play, Alfred dragged Arthur off to them. They raced against each other on a Mario Kart machine before playing ice hockey and pool. Their friendly arguments and rivalry had them grinning and laughing and Alfred didn't want it to stop. His yearning for this to continue was almost at the same level of his wish to take Arthur home to his bed. However, it ended all too soon when Arthur looked at his watch.

"Ah. We had better go or we'll be late. We'd best not keep Francis and co. waiting."

Alfred tried not to show his disappointment. "Oh... Yeah. Let's go, then!"

* * *

When they arrived at the hotel, Alfred noticed that Arthur put more distance between them. He almost seemed to be walking as far from the American as he could. Alfred wondered what the problem was. After a few seconds thought, however, he assumed that it was probably some sort of stage fright.

They exited the elevator and made their way to the room they were to meet Francis and the others. Silence made Alfred a little uncomfortable so he was rather glad when they finally reached their destination. Arthur knocked but Alfred just opened the door and walked in. Francis was already seated, waiting. Antonio was fiddling with his microphones. Gilbert was setting up the cameras, pointing one at the door. He grinned at Alfred and waved: Alfred returned the gesture.

"Bienvenue, Alfred et Arthur," said Francis. "You each get separate scripts today."

"Really?" asked Alfred, frowning. "Why?"

Francis ignored him and handed Arthur a piece of paper. The Brit scanned it and frowned. "Is this all?"

"Oui." The Frenchman took the paper and handed Alfred a different one. Alfred also scanned his, frowning. All it said was that he had bought Arthur a pair of boxers as a present but they were a size too small. Embarrassed, he had hid them. That was all. He handed the sheet back to Francis.

"So... where do I start?" asked a confused Alfred.

Nodding at the door, Francis said, "Outside, s'il vous plait."

Obediently, Alfred left the room, pondering what the words on the sheet meant. It suddenly hit him as he waited. If he had hid the boxers and Arthur found them, not knowing they were for him, he might suspect they were someone else's. Francis was throwing jealousy into their on-screen relationship. Remembering the previous week, Alfred wondered if it had something to do with him having a quiet word with Gil while Arthur hurried away. He bit his lip and worried.

"Action!" he heard Francis shout suddenly and he quickly composed himself – no use worrying about it now. Without waiting, Alfred wrenched open the door and bounded in.

Inside, Arthur was seated on the bed, his back against the headboard. He had a book on his lap and was wearing, surprisingly, a pair of reading spectacles. His mature appearance was all the more attractive and Alfred stared in surprise for a moment. Then he remembered that he should have seen this before in their fictitious relationship and tried to shake the surprise from his face. Alfred blinked and looked at the Brit for a few seconds longer, finally realising that his jaw was set – Arthur looked furious.

"I'm home!" Alfred declared, happily, hoping that would cheer Arthur up. Instead, the man only glanced up, an unamused glare directed at the American. The fact that it was over the top of his glasses made Alfred's heart skip a beat. It had been doing that a lot lately and Alfred wondered if he would ever be able to be in the same room with Arthur and have a steady heartbeat. Taking a breath, Alfred decided to try speaking again. "What's up?"

"Are you asking me what I'm doing or what's wrong?" asked Arthur, frostily. "For the former, it is obvious that I am reading – unless you're too uneducated and crass to understand what this is." Arthur shook the book for emphasis as Alfred felt his heart clench. "If you want to know what is wrong, however," Arthur continued as he took off his glasses and closed the book, "I'll tell you." He placed the book and glasses on the bedside table and glared up at Alfred. "These," he said as he pulled a pair of purple boxers from under the bed cover.

Alfred stared at them for a moment, hoping he looked surprised. They were certainly unexpected – mainly because they were hardly boxers. They were very small and had hardly any length to them. The underwear may have been a size too small but Alfred thought that, perhaps, Arthur would be able to squeeze into them. If he did that, his ass would be very prominent... "Um..." was all Alfred could reply with.

"These aren't mine," said Arthur with a dangerous tone. Alfred's eyes widened in surprise. He had never imagined hearing Arthur sound like that. "And they sure as hell don't fit you. Whose are they? Who's been _in our bed_?!"

A flurry of emotions fought for prominence within Alfred. He was frightened – Arthur's narrowed eyes spoke of such heights of fury that he actually feared of what the Brit was capable of. Desperation and a feeling of woe crossed his mind, too. He didn't want this to happen. What would he do if Arthur decided that he would leave him in this episode? Not much had been scripted, after all, and Francis loved spontaneity. What would he do if Francis decided to pair Arthur with someone else then?

"I see," said Arthur, jolting Alfred from his reverie. "I knew it. You don't want to be with me any more. You-" The words choked in Arthur's throat and Alfred returned his gaze to him. He still looked furious but there were tears in his eyes. Arthur looked genuinely upset – he clearly was an amazing actor.

"No!" Alfred finally found himself able to speak. "No, that's not it! You don't understand!"

"I understand perfectly!" yelled Arthur, leaping up from the bed and storming across the room to the American. "You're not satisfied with me so you needed someone else to comfort you!" He waved the underwear at Alfred as he continued to berate him. "I gave you my love and virginity and you just throw it back at me like this! Can't you just tell me to my face!"

"You- No! Look, they're not someone else's! They're yours!" Alfred found himself shouting desperately back at Arthur.

With a snort of derision, Arthur shook his head. "I think I know what clothes I have, thank you!"

"No, they're a present! For you... from... me..." Alfred trailed off, his cheeks feeling rather warm. Arthur's glittering green eyes stared up at him for a moment in confusion. Then the dawning of comprehension spread across his face in the form of a cute blush.

"You- W-What? What do you mean, 'present'? They're... too small for me."

"Yeah, I got the wrong size by accident," muttered Alfred, looking away in his embarrassment. "Sorry. I'll take them back tomorrow and get the right ones."

Silence descended on the room. Finally, Arthur tried to speak, his voice trembling. "A-Alfred... Oh, God. I'm so sorry! I... I can't believe I... This is..." Alfred heard him take a sharp intake of breath and looked round at him. The smaller man looked as though he was trying hard not to cry and Alfred, who had been feeling awkward and awful, melted. Reaching out, Alfred grabbed the boxers and threw them to the side before gathering a surprised Arthur into his arms.

"It's okay. I understand," Alfred muttered.

He was surprised when Arthur pulled away from him, shaking his head. "No. You don't. I... You're my first... And I was just... When I saw them, I was just so terrified that you were going to leave me." The Brit raised his face to look at Alfred, a tear rolling down his cheek. "I don't know what I would do without you," he whispered as more tears began to fall.

"No, please don't cry," pleaded Alfred, his voice wobbling. He felt like he could cry, too. Softly, he wrapped Arthur in a hug. "I won't ever leave you. I swear, I won't." He opened his mouth to say how he truly felt but, out of the corner of his eye, he could see the cameras. Alfred knew that he couldn't say it here unless it was in the script – they would stop filming in surprise. But, even if he could get away with saying it, he wanted to tell Arthur in private. So he closed his mouth and only tightened his hold on Arthur, as if he wouldn't let him go ever again.

After a few moments, he felt Arthur stop shaking ever so slightly. Realising that he had stopped crying (or pretending to cry), Alfred let him go gently, keeping his hands on Arthur's arms. Arthur looked up at him with a watery smile. "I'm sorry. From now on, I'll trust you completely." These words pierced Alfred's heart and his eyes widened as his heart rate increased dramatically.

"I... I think we should go to the bed," he croaked, gazing at Arthur.

"What? Why?" asked a puzzled Arthur.

Alfred smiled at him and tugged him down onto it, sitting beside him. Gently, he cupped Arthur's face with his hands and tenderly kissed him on the lips. Looking at him with soft eyes, Alfred said, "I'd like to make love to you now."

There was a pause as Arthur looked back at him in a mixture of surprise and relief. However, hesitantly, he spoke, looking away as he did so. "If... If we do... will you forgive me?"

"I already ha-"

"No," said Arthur, grabbing Alfred's hands. He looked up at the taller man with pleading eyes. Alfred marvelled at how well Arthur's hands fit in his and gazed at his tremendous eyes. "You _must_ forgive me only after you have... done what you will with me. It's... It's-"

"Arthur," Alfred said, kindly. "I've already forgiven you. Forget about it." He leaned forward and kissed him gently. "Just... Let me give you a better present than those boxers." Alfred gave Arthur a cheeky grin which caused the Brit to smile back. Then, once again, he leaned forward and kissed Arthur. As he did so, one of his hands let go of Arthur's and rested on Arthur's hip. It lasted longer than the others and he soon found himself running his tongue along Arthur's lips. His partner's lips opened slightly, allowing his tongue access and he gratefully slipped it in. As their tongues entwined, Alfred realised he could feel the roughness of where Arthur had burned himself earlier. Softly, he used his tongue to stroke it, drawing a moan of pleasure from Arthur.

This caused Alfred to get more excited and leaned further into the kiss, placing his other hand on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur's arms moved and Alfred soon found the Brit's arms around his neck, pulling him closer. They shortly found themselves lying on the bed, Alfred on top. Not stopping their kiss, they hungrily pressing their lips together as Alfred tugged at Arthur's belt and jeans, his shoes and socks slipping off as he did so. After he had pulled off his boxers, he pushed at Arthur's t-shirt till it was at his neck. Ever so briefly, they let each other go and Alfred pulled the shirt off with a happy look before dipping back down to continue kissing his precious partner.

Softly, he ran his hands over Arthur's shoulders before they made their way down to his chest. He felt the vibrations of Arthur's muffled moans against his lips and felt himself starting to get hard. Brushing his fingers over Arthur's nipples gained a moan as Arthur let go of his lips. His eyes were closed as he concentrated on the pleasurable feeling and Alfred smiled. Leaning over, he kissed Arthur's shoulder and then his collarbone. His fingers, however, continued their teasing as Arthur moaned his name. The tingles running up and down Alfred's spine intensified and he breathed a sigh into Arthur's neck.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Alfred manoeuvred himself down, his kissing continuing and his fingers keeping up their good work. When his mouth finally became level with Arthur's nipples, he kissed at them, licking them tenderly and sucking them slightly. The moans from Arthur grew louder. Smiling, Alfred let his hands trail downwards till he found his destination. He gripped Arthur and was pleased to feel Arthur bucking into him, moaning.

"Alfred... Alfred, please! Ah! More, please, God!" This outburst caused Alfred to redden but he kept his composure and moved his hands to Arthur's thighs, trailing his fingers lightly over them. "Al..." pleaded Arthur. The British man shifted and Alfred glanced up to see Arthur propped on his elbows, staring down at him. Alfred gazed back in shock, his mouth opening and stopping his kissing when he noticed how debauched and desperate Arthur looked. "If... If you don't... I'll..." Arthur was breathing hard and, coupled with his appearance, Alfred felt the bulge in his own jeans become more prominent.

Without hesitation, he moved a hand over and gripped Arthur. With his other hand, he reached up to Arthur. Obediently, the other slipped Alfred's fingers into his mouth and started to suck and lick at them. Alfred stroked Arthur, relishing the vibrations along his fingers as Arthur moaned happily. When Alfred deemed it enough, he pulled Arthur's ass cheeks apart and pushed in a finger. It went in much easier than before and Alfred quickly pushed in another, listening to Arthur groaning.

As he moved his fingers, brushing against Arthur's sweet spot, he moved down and placed Arthur into his own mouth. The gasp from above caused Alfred to smile and he slowly began to lick at Arthur. He made sure to lick along his whole length before simply sucking at him. He nibbled, licked, sucked, moved his fingers, listening to Arthur's breathing becoming erratic and his moans coming in closer intervals. Finally, Alfred felt Arthur's hands entwine through his hair and grip him.

"Alfred," he breathed. "I'm going to..."

Nodding, Alfred thrust his fingers in harder even as he sucked particularly hard. Arthur gave a shout and the grip on Alfred's hair tightened. He felt Arthur throb in his mouth but he didn't let go, letting it run down his throat: wrinkling his nose was the only indication that he gave for not enjoying the taste. When it finished, he sat up and swallowed, much to Arthur's amazement.

"Why... did you...?"

"I told you," said Alfred, hoarsely, "that I was giving you a present. You should lie back down and enjoy."

He watched the reddening of Arthur's cheeks with amazement: it made Alfred's heart do back-flips. Arthur nodded and lay down, still gazing at Alfred. The American smiled and hurriedly began to strip. "Wait!" exclaimed Arthur as Alfred's green shirt went flying. "Go slower," he added once Alfred had stopped and looked at him questioningly. Alfred's eyes widened before he beamed and nodded.

The jeans were undone as slowly as he could before he pulled them off. Unfortunately, his foot got caught and the sexy atmosphere was eradicated as he hopped around, pulling them and his sneakers off. When he finally had them off, he grimaced at Arthur who smiled back, amused. Carefully, Alfred pulled up his shirt, watching Arthur's pleased expression grow, his cheeks still a ruby colour. Finally, the shirt went flying and there were only his boxers to pull off. Putting his head on one side, he cheekily asked Arthur, "Do you want me to take them off, then? I mean, we can't go any further if I don't take them off."

Rolling his eyes, Arthur nodded. "Please," he begged.

With his thumbs hooked in the waistband, Alfred paused. "Are you sure?" he teased.

"Definitely. Absolutely!" replied Arthur, pushing himself to a sitting position.

Once again, Alfred threw away his underwear and clambered on top of Arthur. Gently, he pushed Arthur back into a lying position. "Good. Now, if you're ready..." When Arthur nodded, Alfred pushed his legs apart and positioned himself carefully. To tease Arthur, he pushed in slowly. He watched as Arthur's head jerked back with a cry and his back arched. Alfred's partner was breathing heavily by the time he had pushed his whole length in.

Happy to be doing this, Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur's shoulders. "Arthur," he breathed. A gasp escaped from Arthur before he also wrapped his arms around Alfred, his grip on Alfred's shoulders tight. "Arthur," said Alfred again before moving.

"A-Al!" gasped Arthur as Alfred thrust back into him. "F-Faster!" A tingly feeling ran up and down Alfred's body and he obliged quite willingly. "More!" moaned Arthur.

Panting, Alfred grinned and raised his head slightly to look at Arthur. He almost froze when he saw how much more debauched Arthur looked than before. The Englishman's face was ruby red and his eyes were half-lidded. His mouth hung open as he breathed heavily, moaning between each breath. Alfred forced himself to continue as he gave a little laugh. "You're very eager tonight," he said through his own heavy breaths.

"Shut... up," muttered Arthur. When his cheeks darkened, Alfred realised he was blushing. His smile widened and he reached up with a hand to stroke at one of them.

"You look amazing," he said as he paused. Arthur looked up at him in surprise. "You always look amazing but, like this... This is such a brilliant look. I love being able to see you like this. And I'm the only one who will ever see you like this." The green orbs staring at him widened even further. With a small amused laugh, Alfred dropped his head and kissed him even as he continued thrusting. This time, however, he moved as hard and fast as he could. Honestly, he wanted to hear Arthur's moans – however, he didn't want to stop the kiss.

Instead of a cry to announce Arthur's climax, Alfred felt the grip on his shoulders tighten. The Brit tensed around Alfred and his lip was bitten. All of these sensations drove Alfred wild and he felt himself come seconds after. He was quite proud that they had come together but he suddenly felt exhausted and let himself collapse on top of Arthur. They both breathed heavily, Alfred into the bedsheets.

"Alfred..." mumbled Arthur. Alfred raised his head slightly to show that he was listening. "By any chance could you take it out...?" With a barely perceptible nod, Alfred removed himself and rolled onto his side so that he was facing his partner.

"Artie..."

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

"What for?" asked Arthur, turning to him with a frown.

A broad smile spread across Alfred's face as he raised his eyes to look at Arthur. "For worrying. It means you care about me, right?"

Arthur flushed. "I..."

Before Arthur could deny it, Alfred leaned over and kissed him. It was a deep kiss but also a tender one. It only lasted a few seconds before he pulled away and cupped Arthur's face in his hand. "I know," he said with a smile.

"Coupez!" came Francis' voice. Alfred blinked and froze. Arthur, meanwhile, rolled over and sat up. He immediately began looking for his clothes. Looking round, Alfred saw that Antonio was busying himself with his microphone, his back to the room. Gilbert appeared to be fixated on his cameras but the blush on his face told Alfred that his brother would be getting another visit in a few hours. Francis, however, did not seem to be all that impressed. Instead, he looked as though he was preoccupied, thinking.

Lazily, Alfred sat up as Arthur hurried into the en suite bathroom with his clothes. He looked sadly at the closed door before stretching with a sigh. A movement caught his eye and he was able to catch his boxers as they flew at him. Gazing round the room, he saw that Francis had thrown them at him.

"Did you have fun?" he asked with a smirk.

"Yeah," said Alfred with a slight blush. "I always have fun with Artie."

"Je vois..." muttered Francis to himself.

"Huh?"

"Oh, nothing. You should probably get dressed, cher."

Alfred simply nodded in reply and idly rose to locate his clothes. He gathered them on the bed and, once he had finally gathered them all, stretched and began to pull them on. He started with his boxers and had managed to get them on when Arthur emerged from the other room.

"Goodnight, everyone," he declared without looking at anyone. And, with that, Arthur headed to the door and left.

"Eh?!" cried Alfred and he began to hurriedly pull the rest of his clothes on.

"Attendez!" called Francis behind Alfred. The American turned to see Francis hurry out after Arthur. Frowning, Alfred continued getting dressed, wondering what Francis wanted with Arthur. When he'd finally finished, he hurried out as well.

"... must come with me," he heard Francis saying before he saw them. When he did spot them, he froze as he gaped at the scene.

Arthur was staring, alarmed, at Francis. Francis, meanwhile, was holding Arthur's wrist. He seemed to be trying to guide Arthur somewhere. Alfred's mind raced and he put two and two together. Francis wanted Arthur to go with him. Francis had been impressed with Arthur. Francis paid Alfred when he had nothing to do because he had sex with the Frenchman. Francis must be wanting Arthur to have sex with him, too.

Alfred would not let that happen.

"No, look. Stop i-" Arthur began to say as Alfred crossed the space between them. He stopped when he noticed Alfred and his fury approaching. "Al-"

"Francis!" yelled Alfred. This attracted Francis' attention and the Frenchman turned with large blue eyes to stare at him. Alfred stepped towards him and swung his arm. His clenched fist connected with Francis' jaw and the director was knocked from his feet. He collapsed to the floor as Alfred stood over him, breathing heavily and his eyes narrowed behind his glasses.

Movement caught Alfred's attention and he noticed Arthur taking a step backwards. "Al... fred...?" he said, his eyes wider than Alfred had seen before.

Turning to Arthur, Alfred raised a hand, reaching for him. "Arthur. Are...?" He paused when he noticed Arthur taking a step away from him, out of his reach. "Arthur?"

"What did you...?"

Below him, Francis sat up, holding his jaw. "Alfred?" he mumbled, his eyes watering from the pain. Behind him, Alfred heard people approaching and looked over his shoulder to see Antonio and Gilbert frowning in confusion.

"I..." Alfred didn't know what to do. He had just hit his employer. Arthur seemed to be scared of him. How could he resolve this situation? "I..." He turned to Arthur. "Arthur, I..." Once again, he reached out to him, a little faster this time in an attempt to catch hold of him before he pulled away. This time, however, Arthur stumbled backwards before turning away from Alfred completely. Alfred watched, shocked, as Arthur sped along the corridor, heading frantically for the elevator. "Arthur, wait!" he called, rushing after him.

As the Englishman reached the doors, they opened with a ding. The two men who emerged were Ludwig and Feliciano. The tall Germanic blonde calmly watched the chase for a few seconds before grabbing the brunette and pulling him to the side. Feliciano yelped in surprise as Arthur darted by him with a hurried "Excuse me!" Hugging Feliciano to his chest and out of the way, Ludwig stepped back, frowning. Arthur spun round in the small metal box and hit one of the buttons inside. Alfred could see him jabbing at a second button as he drew closer.

"No, wait!" he shouted as the doors began to slowly close. _I can make it. I'll make it. I'll definitely make it!_

Suddenly, Alfred was halted by someone grabbing his arm. The abrupt stop made Alfred stumble backwards. He cried out as he saw the doors slam shut. Then, with a groan, he collapsed to the ground at Ludwig's feet.

"I am sorry, Alfred. But you could have hurt yourself if you had tried to get in," explained Ludwig, matter-of-factly.

"Ve, what happened, Alfred?" asked Feliciano, holding out a hand to help the American up. Alfred accepted it but shook his head at the question. How could he explain that a moment of doubt and jealousy had caused him to lash out? What kind of man must he be to scare Arthur like that?

"Ah, Ludwig, Feliciano," said a French voice behind Alfred. The American tensed. What should he do in this situation? "I need you in your usual room, s'il vous plait." Alfred stared at the floor as Ludwig and Feliciano moved around him. Ludwig paused to place a hand on Alfred's shoulder. Feliciano looked at him with a sad expression before hurrying off. "Alfred-"

"I'm..." said Alfred, doing the only thing he could think of to solve his problem. "I'm sorry Francis. I just..." He turned to look at Francis and almost began crying when he noted the kind look Francis was giving him. Antonio and Gilbert had disappeared, probably helping Ludwig and Feliciano to set up. "I don't-"

"Alfred, I understand. Desolé – if you thought I was going to steal your Arthur from you, I assure you, I had no such intentions," said Francis, smiling lightly. Alfred blushed at the term he used to describe the Brit. "Now, I believe you are wasting time here, non?"

"Huh?"

"Arthur is getting away, cher. You had best hurry to catch him."

The bespectacled man's eyes widened and he spun round. Rushing to the stairwell, he pulled open the door with such force that he left a dent in the wall. He didn't pause, however, and began to sprint down the stairs, bouncing off the walls in an effort to speedily turn corners. When he reached the foyer, he burst through the door, causing the receptionist to squeak in surprise.

"Did- Did you see... Arthur?" panted Alfred, rushing to the desk and leaning on it.

The girl behind the desk looked rather alarmed. She nodded. "He... He just left. I'm not sure if you'll catch him or not, though. It's been a few minutes."

Crying out in despair, Alfred rushed out of the hotel and looked round. Cars drove past at a sedate pace. Couples strolled by. Drunkards staggered into trash cans. Businessmen briskly stalked by, briefcases clutched in their hands. Groups of friends in shorts headed to the beach, chattering in loud tones. Arthur was nowhere to be seen, however. Alfred headed back inside and sank onto a seat in the reception area with a sigh.

Would the man he loved ever talk to him again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original A/N:  
> I feel like I should defend Francis here - he was not trying to get Arthur all to himself. He was trying to have a quiet word with him in a room out of the way of possible over-hearing. He didn't want certain people to discover what they were talking about. (This conversation may be explained later, but, if not, remind me and I'll tell you in a note or something.)
> 
> "Je vois" means "I see."
> 
> I'm not entirely sure how bowling alleys work in America. So I just went with what I know. There are usually arcade bits wherever there's a bowling alley. Also, I'm not sure if, in America, people take their own balls? I've seen that in films and TV (like The Flintstones and The Simpsons). But I decided that, even if that is the case, Al isn't such a hardcore player that he has one himself.
> 
> The place where they go is a real place and they do have such items on their menu such as Belgian fries at their bar. (Hurrah for Google.)


	4. Fourth Person

"It's been a week!" moaned Alfred into the bed. "A week and he hasn't contacted me at all! Not even when I've called him or messaged him!"

Sitting on his director's chair with his legs crossed, Francis frowned at him. "How many times did you call him, cher?" he asked kindly.

"Uh..." Alfred reached into his jeans pocket with some difficulty and pulled his cell out. Flicking it open, he checked his calls log. "About two hundred times," he admitted as he buried his head in the covers.

"I think that may have been a bit much, non?" said Francis gently.

"But, still! A whole week! I've barely survived, dude!"

A chuckle sounded from Francis and Alfred glared up at him. The candlelight flickered over his director's face as he gazed back at Alfred. "You are truly in love, chéri. Et that is why today's scenario is you trying to apologise to Arthur for something you have done. We will not specify, of course."

"That doesn't make me feel any better, Francis," muttered Alfred sadly. With a sigh, he sat up. "Do you know if he's coming?"

"Non. He has not contacted me. I did send him a message to ask him to come in for filming."

Alfred sighed once again. "What do I say when he comes in?"

"I think... 'Je suis desolé' would be best, cher."

"Don't know what that means!" whined Alfred.

"'I am sorry'."

"Oh..."

The door opened and Alfred's heart leapt. He was bitterly disappointed when Antonio and Gilbert walked in. Gil looked upset, too.

"What is wrong, Gilbert?" asked Francis, frowning once again.

Instead of speaking to Francis, Gilbert turned to Alfred. "Hey, Alfred. Is Mattie really busy?"

"Huh?" Alfred blinked and gazed at Gilbert's pleading expression. "I... dunno. He _does_ seem to be... I mean, he's always on his computer, doing whatever it is he's supposed to be doing..."

"Oh..."

"Why? What's up?"

"N-Nothing much!" exclaimed Gilbert, hurriedly, laughing suddenly in his strange way. "How is your situation with Arthur?"

"Urgh..." said Alfred, throwing himself backwards onto the bed.

"Is it really that bad, amigo?" asked Antonio.

"Yeah! What'm I supposed to do?" mumbled Alfred miserably.

Everyone was startled by a voice saying "Fabulous!" There was a brief pause as everyone froze where they were. Then Alfred sat up as fast as possible and grabbed at his phone whilst the crew watched him in alarm. "Quoi...?" Francis managed as Alfred checked the screen.

"It's a message from Arthur!" exclaimed Alfred happily, smiling. He flicked open his screen and read it quickly.

_Hello. Sorry that I have not been able to reply to your calls or messages. Could you please let Francis know that I will not be able to make filming today? Something has come up and I have had to go to hospital. I am_

For a moment, Alfred could only gape at the screen. Hospital? What was wrong with him? Was he okay? He wasn't going to die, was he?

"Alfred...?" asked Francis, tentatively. "What is wrong?"

In a rush, Alfred tried to stand up and move forward at the same time, resulting in him toppling over. He hit the floor with a loud thud. His phone fell from his grasp and landed close to Francis. The Frenchman leaned over and picked it up. Alfred watched him read the message: the director's eyes widened in shock.

"We need to go to him!" cried Alfred.

"Mon Dieu..." muttered Francis as Alfred scrambled to his feet.

Since he was still transfixed by the message, Alfred shouted to him. "Francis!" When he had his attention, Alfred continued, "We need to get down there now!"

"Oui! Gilbert, you have your van, non?"

"Ja... What is it? What is wrong?"

"Arthur's in hospital!" cried Alfred. He could feel the panic rising within him and he fought to keep it down. If he started to, he would likely not find out what had happened to Arthur.

"Hospital?" asked Antonio, his eyes wide.

"What happened?!" exclaimed Gilbert.

"He didn't say!" wailed Alfred. "Please!"

"Ah, ja, of course!" said the cameraman, quickly pulling his keys from his pocket. Antonio opened the door and all four of them piled out of the room. They rushed down the hall and Alfred jabbed at the button for the elevator. He was relieved that it opened as soon as he had – Antonio and Gilbert must have been the last ones in it. They squeezed in and Alfred slapped at the button for the first floor.

Once there, they said goodbye to the surprised receptionist and hurried to the parking lot. A small white van was there and the four of them managed to squeeze in, Antonio being relegated to sitting amongst the equipment in the back. The vehicle started on the second turn of the key, and Gilbert backed out of the space.

"Which hospital is it?" he asked as he drove to the exit.

Alfred's jaw dropped. He had no idea – there was no hint in the message. "I... I dunno..." he admitted, grimacing.

"Well, this is an emergency," said Francis. "Let us go to the closest hospital with an A&E."

"That would be LAC, ja?" asked Gilbert, even as he pulled out of the parking lot.

"Yeah," muttered Alfred, grateful for their help. Now he felt even worse about hitting Francis. Though he knew there was no point in apologising – he had already been forgiven.

* * *

They hurried into the hospital and rushed to the desk. "Arthur!" gasped Alfred. "Arthur Kirkland! Is he here?!"

"I... I'm sorry?" asked the man behind the desk with a frown.

"Arthur Kirkland!" demanded Alfred, leaning forward. "He told us he was at hospital. Is he here?!"

"Well, let me just check..." said the man, scratching his head and looking down at his computer. He swiftly typed on his keyboard and scanned the screen. "Hm, I'm sorry. Perhaps he's at another hospital... We have no record of an Arthur Kirkland here..."

"No way!" wailed Alfred. "How are we gonna find him?!"

A woman came through the door behind the man and began to place files in folders. The receptionist turned to her. "Hey, Irene. Have you heard of an 'Arthur Kirkland' here? The computer might not have been updated yet..."

"Mr. Kirkland?" said the woman. "Oh, yes. He's in Room 404 but-"

"Thank you!" cried Alfred, not listening any more. He turned away and rushed to the stairs – he had no patience for the elevator. Presuming the others were following, he leapt upstairs, two at a time. By the time he reached the fourth floor, he was out of breath. He glanced around frantically, searching for the sign to point him in the right direction. After figuring out the right way, he burst through the double doors and rushed along the corridor, looking for room 4. Finally, he found the place and, without waiting for the others, he charged in.

Three people looked round him. The first person was a woman with long brown hair who was propped up in bed. She appeared to be well enough. Beside her was a man with a mole and glasses. They both seemed to be surprised at his appearance. However, neither were as surprised as Arthur was. He was sitting beside the woman, holding her hand.

"Arthur!" cried Alfred, stepping forward. However, his brain caught up with his actions and he froze where he was, confused at the situation.

A silence descended on the room for a moment before the woman spoke. "Arthur? Who is this?" She was not American nor English but Alfred could not place the accent.

"Ah... Um... A work colleague..." Arthur told her. His face was red and he looked panicked. "From that night job I told you about..."

"Oh?" said the woman, smiling up at Alfred now. "I am not sure if Arthur has spoke to you about me before. He can be rather secretive!" She chuckled to herself.

"This..." said Arthur, glancing at Alfred before staring at the foot of the bed. "This is Elizaveta. And this is my next door neighbour, Roderich."

"Guten Abend," said the man. Alfred recognised the German words.

"Ah, have you found him, Alfred?" asked Francis behind the American. He turned to find his three friends, out of breath and relieved.

"Yeah..." said Alfred, hesitantly. Gilbert and Antonio peered around him.

"What... What are you all _doing_ here?" asked Arthur, his lips barely moving.

"I got your text – it said you were at hospital," explained Alfred, slowly.

Frowning, Arthur pulled his cell from his pocket and flicked it open. After clicking a few buttons he sighed and looked up. "It only sent half of my message. The rest of it was to say that I was perfectly fine and there was no need to worry. I can come in tomorrow, if necessary." This last comment was said with a barbed tone.

"In the meantime, why not invite them to stay?" asked Elizaveta with a dazzling smile.

"I really don't think-" began Arthur.

"Perhaps it would be best to tell them why you could not make it today," suggested Roderich, gazing emotionless at Arthur.

The Englishman glanced up at him sharply. Then he looked round at Elizaveta who flashed him a puzzled smile. Slowly, Arthur removed the hand covering Elizaveta's, revealing a sparkling diamond ring. "My... fiancée... managed to get herself into another fight..." he said, quietly, his voice piercing through Alfred.

For a moment, Alfred thought he couldn't breathe. Fiancée? Arthur was engaged? To Elizaveta? But then...? The shock must have been evident on Alfred's face because the woman tried to reassure him.

"Do not worry! I beat her for sure!"

"I do not know how you can say that!" exclaimed Roderich, losing his composure momentarily. Calming himself, he continued, "If you had been seriously hurt, you could have lost the baby."

"Ba... by...?" Alfred croaked out.

"Igen," said Elizaveta as she used her now free hand to rub her stomach. "I will be a mother in a few months."

Alfred suddenly felt as though the room was spinning. Everything blurred and he staggered backwards. Francis steadied him as the Frenchman spoke to Arthur. "I did not know about this. Félicitations!"

Instead of responding, Arthur gazed worriedly at Alfred. When he was nudged by Elizaveta, he remembered his manners. "Ah, yes... Thank you..."

"Are you his boss?" asked Elizaveta.

"Hm, I suppose you can say that, oui."

Elizaveta frowned at him. A tense atmosphere descended as Arthur glared at Francis. Alfred, meanwhile, was still trying to get his head around the situation.

Arthur was engaged. He was going to be a father. Elizaveta did not seem to know what he did every week. Arthur was straight. So he could not be interested in Alfred whatsoever.

A sob escaped from him. The three people around the bed looked at him. Elizaveta appeared alarmed; Roderich raised an eyebrow; Arthur looked as though he wanted to move towards him. But that was just an illusion, Alfred reminded himself. Turning, he pushed past Gilbert and Antonio and rushed down the corridor, barrelling into people as he dashed through doors.

Soon he found himself by the front door, inhaling large breaths, a hand on the wall to steady himself. This couldn't be happening. He had found someone to love and they were being taken away from him. The worst thing about this situation was that he had tears in his eyes. At any moment, they could fall – and he didn't want to be out here when that happened. Perhaps, if he called Mattie, he would come to pick him up.

"Alfred..." said a hesitant voice and he glanced up into green eyes.

"W-What are you doing out here...? Shouldn't you be inside with...?"

"I... wanted to make sure you were all right..."

"No," said Alfred, clenching his fist.

"You're not all right? Should I call a doctor?"

"Stop it."

"What?"

"Don't pretend to be worried." He straightened up, his breathing under control, his tears in check. A little surprised, he found himself angry.

"I... I'm not pretending Alfred..." Arthur replied, looking stunned. Slowly, he reached out – Alfred thought he meant to take his hand. The American stepped backwards instead, shaking his head. "Al-"

"Quit it, already!" shouted Alfred, drawing the attention of people hovering around the entrance. Arthur looked around nervously and seemed about to scold Alfred for being too loud. But Alfred continued, his voice still loud. "Go back inside and leave me alone! Go back to your fiancée and your baby and your perfect little life!"

Now Arthur's eyes narrowed and he shouted back in turn. "Don't you dare pretend to know about me and my life! We hardly know each other!"

"You can say that again!"

"I'm glad you agree. So do not think that-!" Arthur stopped himself, glowering at Alfred. "What part of my life seems perfect to you?"

"The hell?!" yelled Alfred. "You're gonna get married and have kids! What part of that wouldn't be perfect!"

"You're hopeless! Don't you see?! Can't you tell?!"

"What're you talking about?!"

Arthur sighed through his teeth, making a hissing noise. "You idiot! If you can't see... Jesus, why am I bothering?" He turned away but Alfred grabbed his arm.

"Don't insult me because you lied to me!"

"I didn't lie to you! I _told_ Francis! I practically _showed_ you in that diner by staring at the waitress!"

"That was hardly telling me straight! Why the fuck did you have se-?"

"Money! That's all it ever was, twit!"

Alfred froze, his mouth open in surprise. "Money...?"

For a brief second, Arthur looked astonished and upset. Then he frowned once again, scowling at Alfred. "Yes. Do you think a job at a diner is going to pay for the child? I cannot marry Elizaveta on that sort of a wage!"

Narrowing his eyes, Alfred folded his arms. "You certainly seemed to _enjoy_ your second job."

"That's called acting, you pillock!"

Silence descended. The distant chattering and sirens filtered in and reminded Arthur of where he was. He glanced around nervously, his head slightly bowed, not looking at Alfred. The American didn't know what to do now. Had he really acted everything? Obviously, he hadn't faked his orgasms. But had he faked how much he had loved them?

"Arthur..." muttered Alfred. "You really...?"

"That is just how it is!" snapped Arthur. Alfred could almost feel him slipping through his fingers.

"You weren't interested... in me... at all?"

"Of course not! You're a guy! I'm not gay!"

Alfred let another sob escape him. "I... Arthur, I..." His vision blurred and he gasped for breath.

"Alfred?" asked Arthur, quietly. He sounded worried again.

Waving his arm, Alfred whacked Arthur's hand away. "Leave me alone," he whispered, turning from him. For a moment there was silence except for his deep breaths. The tears began to fall slowly down his cheeks as he fought to stop his sobbing. Finally, he heard footsteps receding and he knew that Arthur had done what he had asked. But not what he wished...

* * *

Matthew came to the door of the kitchen, frowning, when he heard Alfred trudging in. "Alfred? Shouldn't you be at work?" His brother grunted in response. "What happened? Is something wrong?"

"You could say that again," mumbled Alfred, miserably.

"What is it? Talk to me Alfred!" Shaking his head, Alfred tried to move around Matthew and head to his room. "Alfred," said Matthew, catching him by the shoulders. "Stop. What happened? You should be at the hotel. With him." He raised an eyebrow and a small smile appeared.

The look on Mattie's face was what broke him. His knees buckled as he began to sob once again, collapsing on top of his brother. Matthew often complained how heavy he was when flung himself on the quieter man so he could never work out how he arrived at the sofa. However it happened, Alfred was grateful to be able to cry into his brother's shoulder.

Eventually, his sobbing ceased and Matthew was able to extricate himself from his grasp. "Wait here. I know what you need."

Alfred could not see how he could know that. However, when he brought out pancakes with a smiling face drawn on in maple syrup, he understood. Still sniffing, he ate slowly. In between each bite, he explained what had happened.

"Oh, Alfred," breathed Matthew when he had finished. "I am so sorry."

"Yeah," muttered Alfred with a sigh.

"What are you going to do now?" asked Matthew, tentatively.

"Huh?"

"Well... Unless Francis is kind enough to find someone else for you..."

Looking up in surprise, Alfred gaped at him. "Oh, God..." he breathed. His brother was right, of course. There were three options available and all of them were awful. Firstly, continue at his job, trying not to get his hopes up every time he had wonderful sex with Arthur. If, of course, the Brit ever turned up again. Next, he could ask Francis to find someone else to partner with and never speak to Arthur again. Lastly, he could quit and find a new job, never speaking to Arthur again. Somehow, the last two seemed the most painful. "What am I going to do?"

For a moment Matthew said nothing, watching him eat. Then he asked, "You still love him, don't you?"

"What?!" exclaimed Alfred, dropping the piece of pancake he had just picked up. "O-Of course not! That jerk is just..."

"If you still love him-"

"Mattie..." said Alfred, tiredly, guessing the sorts of things he would say. "Can you drop it for now? And do we have ice cream?"

"Binge eating junk food-"

"Ice cream!" shouted Alfred, pouting.

With a sigh, Matthew stood. "Should I bring it to your room or will you still be here when I get back?"

"Room."

"That's not going to be healthy, Alfred," said Matthew as he walked out the door.

"Don't care!" sang Alfred through the doorway. He grinned till Matthew was out of sight then let his face settle back to his tearful expression from before. Quickly, he moved through to his room. As he reached his bed, however, his cell suddenly spoke. Blinking, he took it out of his pocket and flicked it open.

Seeing Arthur's name on the screen, his eyes widened. Then, biting back the tears once more, he turned his phone to silent and threw it onto his desk. Climbing into bed, he pulled the covers up and around him, hugging his knees as he let the tear fall down his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original A/N:  
> Sorry Al.
> 
> They know each other surnames now. Not sure when that happened but it did. (Mainly cause I can't be bothered working out the exact time it would not be weird to say "Hey, what's your surname?" The other option is that he asks on the way to the hospital as an afterthought but I can't be bothered mapping their exact route to that hospital.)
> 
> LAC is an actual hospital which Google Maps informs me has emergency rooms. No idea if that's where they would take Elizaveta but whatever.
> 
> Oh, yeah... They never put the candles out. I hope the hotel doesn't burn down... (I'm sure it'll be fine. Yeah.)
> 
> EDIT! I knew there was something else to say! The reason Gil comes in all upset was because I thought it wouldn't be fair if Alfred's the only one having problems in his love life. I never intended to but I've made myself want to write about what's happening with Gil and Mattie. But, I dunno... I mean, I know what's happened to them up to this point (vaguely) but I'm not sure how I would resolve their problem... I also thought that Antonio could be having problems with Lovino. Sort of. More that Lovino's found problems in their relationship and Tonio is... I dunno, better at covering up how upset he is, too? And it could all be happening at the same time. And poor Francis has to help them all - while not having a partner either...


	5. Fifth Hour

Alfred frowned when he heard the buzzing of the intercom. He didn't move, though. Just like he hadn't moved except for bathroom breaks all week. _All week._

It had been a whole seven days since Alfred had last seen Arthur but it still felt like he had only just been heartbroken. Every so often, he would tear up and be forced to bury his head in his pillow while he sobbed. Matthew took care of him as much as he could when he wasn't at work. His brother's patience was wearing thin, though. He could tell by the way he now chewed his lip in contemplation when he came to give him pancakes and ice cream. Alfred's lifestyle was no longer healthy.

Hearing Mattie answer the intercom, he sighed in relief. If it had been something important, they would have missed out. Alfred really did not want to leave the sanctuary of his room. Straining to hear what was going on, he heard Matthew's muffled voice before he pressed the button which unlocked the downstairs door. Alfred frowned – he really hoped it wasn't his mother.

A few minutes later there was a thud at the front door. Not really a knock, to be honest. Hesitantly, Alfred rose from his place and tip-toed to his door. As quietly as he could, he opened it a crack and watched as Matthew answered.

"Mattie!" cried Gilbert as he threw himself on Alfred's brother. Alfred frowned. Gilbert looked a bit drunk.

His brother wriggled out from under him. "Gilbert! You dropped him!"

"You dropped me..." slurred someone whose voice Alfred recognised. He froze, trapped.

"I dropped him!" cried Gilbert, cheerily. "But it doesn't matter, ja? We can leave him here and-"

"Gilbert!" snapped Matthew. Alfred had known this week that things were a little tense between them but it showed more now. "Help me get him up!"

Huffing a little, the drunken Gilbert and Matthew hoisted up the person who had been on the floor. His messy blonde hair and glazed green eyes came into view. What the hell was Arthur doing here?

"So, you're Arthur, then?" asked Matthew, frowning a little. Alfred felt a surge of gratitude for his brother. He didn't want Arthur in their apartment either.

"Yep!" said the Brit, cheerily. Alfred caught himself smiling in amusement: he had never heard Arthur using the slang words for 'yes'. He was always too proper for that.

"I really don't think Alfred wants to see you... It _is_ five in the morning, after all..."

"But I hafta see him!" whined Arthur. "Gotta talk to him!"

"And I'm telling you-" began Matthew but Gilbert interrupted.

"Listen, Mattie. If you don't let him go talk to Al, I reckon I'm going to have to take him home. And I doubt either of us would appreciate being around Lud and Feli right now." He said this part rather pointedly, shooting Matthew a look. Perhaps he wasn't as drunk as he had made out.

"I still don't know..."

"Why don't you go ask Alfred to-?" began Gilbert but Mattie cut across him.

"No. If we ask before we take him to the room, he'll never be allowed in. And I'll _never_ be able to get my brother out of his room. This will, hopefully, be good for him." He sighed, running his hand through his hair.

"Traitor!" muttered Alfred, moodily. He watched them stagger closer and wondered whether he should retreat or face them.

"Al, Al," sang Arthur, drunkenly, smiling a little. "Get to see Al!"

He looked so happy that Alfred paused before sighing and, leaving the door ajar, returned to his bed. Sitting on it, hugging his knees, he waited for them to reach their destination. The door swung open and he looked up, glaring at Gilbert and refusing to look at Arthur. "Traitor," he muttered.

Gilbert grinned. "Hey, it's not _my_ fault. I met him in a bar and he was already getting drunk on his own. We've had to move bars... th... thr... drei times!"

Arthur giggled, his eyes unfocused. "Pub crawl!"

Turning his glare to Matthew, his brother shrugged. "I don't think he'll leave. And we can't take him home like this. God knows what he'll do when he gets there. Just... You deal with that one and I'll deal with _this_." He reached over and tugged on his boyfriend's ear who pouted and whined pitifully.

Alfred sighed. "Fine. Sheesh."

Gently, Mattie lowered Arthur to the floor and backed out of the room, tugging Gilbert with him. The door closed softly and Alfred forced himself to look at the heap on the floor which was Arthur. He was curled up as if to shield himself from the world. Perhaps he needed to sleep it off. Alfred sighed and Arthur sat up as straight as he could – which was actually more of an angle, leaning his forehead against the edge of the bed.

"Al?" he whispered.

"Arthur... What are you doing here?" He tried to keep his voice steady. Tried to keep the hurt and the anger from what he said. Instead, he sounded tired.

For a moment, Arthur didn't speak and Alfred supposed he had fallen asleep. Before he could get up and put him in bed, he finally said something. "I drank too much..."

"Yeah, definitely. You shouldn't be here, Artie. Can't you go home?"

At that, Arthur sat up straighter, blinking. He shook his head violently and swayed, stopping himself with a hand on the bed. "No. Can't. Not never."

"Do you mean, 'not ever'?"

"Mmhmm. But... I gotta talk to Al. Can't..."

With his chest hurting from suppressed emotion, Alfred slipped off the bed and sat on the floor so he could actually look at Arthur properly. The Brit looked at him, blearily. He looked very dishevelled; his thin chequered shirt had buttons undone. Alfred frowned and decided to speak, though it was more than he felt Arthur deserved.

"I'm here," he assured him. "What do you want?"

Briefly, Arthur looked round as if he couldn't understand what was happening. Then he spotted Alfred glaring at him and he seemed to relax. "Ah. I really did drink too much. Alfred. I want to apologise."

"Apology not accepted," growled Alfred, angrily.

"I know," said Arthur. Gingerly, he used the bed to lean on and stood. "I should probably explain, though."

"Hm, I dunno. I'm getting by all right without knowing."

"Of course you are," replied Arthur, sarcastically.

At this, Alfred frowned deeper. "You're more sober than you were a few minutes ago," he pointed out. "Or you seem to be."

"Well..." Arthur swayed a little and staggered backwards till he was leaning against Alfred's wardrobe. "I didn't drink as much as Gilbert thinks I did. He's much more drunker... drunk... than I am."

"Should I be worried for my brother?"

Arthur hesitated. "Well... I think he'll be fine. From what Gilbert tells me, he can certainly take care of himself." He rolled his eyes as Alfred rose and sank onto his bed.

"Fine. Explain if you want. I don't care."

"I... I know I hurt you and I'm sorry. I would never have insulted you during that argument if... Look, I've always wanted to be an actor. Getting to re-enact your favourite stories in your own fa... way was always a delight for me. My brothers made fun of me for it. Mum and Dad... decided I wasn't satish- sa- right for the profession... I basically ran away from home to come here with no money and no-one around me-"

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Don't-! Just... let me get there, please!" pleaded Arthur, trying not to look annoyed at the interruption. Rolling his eyes, Alfred flopped backwards, his arms spread wide as he stared at the ceiling. Deciding that his silence meant he could continue, Arthur did so. "When I arrived here... You know how harsh it is to live in L.A., don't you? Well, I had to find a job and, frankly, I always thought a waiter in a diner was beneath me. Elizaveta works with me... We met and she felt the same about her job. So we managed to strike up a friendship. I... asked her... on a date."

"Hurray for you," said Alfred, sarcastically, jealously. When he glanced at Arthur he could see the Brit levelling a serious look at him.

"She was my first date," he said, simply. "And I was pleased to find that she wanted to _continue_ dating. We moved in together. I was happy: in all the world, no-one cared about me. I knew that. But she stuck by me and even tried to encourage me. However... my constant working... she was at home alone a lot..."

Alfred propped himself up on his elbows. What was he saying? He made a noise in his throat, hoping it sounded curious.

"Hm," said Arthur, as if he was agreeing with him. "Well, one day... I was so shocked. She told me... I was so sure I had used protection. But she was pregnant and... I panicked. I had to take responsibility. So I proposed and began working more."

"I really-" began Alfred.

"Then..." said Arthur, ignoring him for the moment and staring at the wall. "Then... I met Francis... And I met you." His gaze dropped to Alfred's and the American stared at those bright green orbs, no longer as glazed as they had been. "I... You... That first night... I couldn't believe... I thought..." Arthur suddenly looked flustered and Alfred understood.

"You liked it?"

Arthur nodded. "And I felt horrible – so much guilt weighed on me. I mean, I was engaged, for God's sake! I had no right falling for anyone else! I'm afraid... I may have panicked a little... I-I'm sorry. I... just..."

Shaking his head, Alfred sat up and glared at him. "If you liked it so much – if you liked me at _all_ – you should have ended it with her! For her sake, too!"

Sighing, Arthur shook his head. "She... She was there for me and... I found I couldn't bear to let 'er go... She was... my first friend... I suppose." He sighed again. "This is just a mess."

"Maybe you should go back to your place. Go back to her. Leave me alone to..." Alfred trailed off, annoyed, gripping at his bed covers.

"That's... impossible."

"What?" asked Alfred, incredulously.

"She's... It's... Roderich..."

Alfred frowned. Arthur was looking rather upset and agitated. "What _is_ it?" he growled.

"It's... not my... child..." Arthur murmured.

"Huh?"

"Roderich... I trusted him. So I always asked him to watch over Elizaveta since he lived right next door. And... Well... At least it wasn't in my bed," he sighed.

A deathly silence fell. "Elizaveta... had an affair?" asked Alfred.

Arthur sank to the floor, his back still against Alfred's wardrobe. "Uh huh," he mumbled as his eyes drooped. "She told me... Somehow, she knew somethin' was goin' on between us. I think, per'aps, I acted differen'ly to 'er after I met you. I couldn' lie. Told 'er..."

Before Arthur could pass out completely, Alfred rose and moved towards him. He stared down at the Englishman before prodding him with a foot. "So why did you think it was a good idea to come here?"

"Because I need you," Arthur blurted out, startled into some sort of sobriety. "And you do too, so-" Suddenly, he gasped and slapped his hands over his mouth.

They both froze like that for a moment. Alfred could hear his heart beating louder and faster than ever. He wasn't sure that he was breathing. Beneath him, Arthur looked horrified, his beautiful green eyes wide.

"How... How drunk _are_ you?" Alfred finally settled on asking.

"E-Enough to be more honest, to slur and – hopefully – pass out but not enough to forget I said this in the morning," mumbled Arthur, clearly ashamed. He removed his hands from his mouth and placed one against the wardrobe. Struggling to his feet, he took a breath and steadied himself so that he was standing tall. "I'm sorry for barging in. I'll leave now."

"Wait!" Alfred found himself saying. Arthur stopped moving, swaying ever so slightly. As they stared at each other, Alfred felt his broken heart healing ever so slightly. He wasn't entirely sure if he should forgive Arthur. He needed more information. "When did you... find out about her?"

"Hm?" said Arthur, uncertainly. "Ah, well... After you all left the hospital..."

"Then why didn't you come to me, then?!"

There was a pause as Arthur seemed to consider it. "I... was hurting... I couldn't... It was too painful and I was too pitiful. I couldn't let you see... But that was stupid."

"Why?" asked Alfred, curiously.

"Because I got fired from the diner. And Francis said that I wasn't allowed to return until I had apologised. So I drank more and... now I'm here."

"Oh," said Alfred.

"I'm sorry. I used you, really. Tryin' to get to the top in Hollywood... I treated you horribly. I'm a horrible person. I'm so fucking sorry."

Something changed in Alfred's heart at those words. Smiling, he caught Arthur by the elbow to steady him. "I know," he said. Then, quickly so he couldn't change his mind, he cupped Arthur's face and leaned in. He was a little astonished to see Arthur hurriedly lean forward, too. They kissed, their lips pressed against each other. Slowly, they opened their mouths a little, their tongues wrestling. Alfred could almost taste the love.

All of a sudden, Arthur was pushing Alfred backwards, towards the bed. His legs caught against it when he reached it and he toppled over, losing access to Arthur's mouth as the Brit stayed standing. Those brilliant green eyes stared down at him. "Alfred..." he breathed.

"Y-Yeah?" asked Alfred, breathlessly.

"Alfred, I love you. We're gonna have make-up sex now, right?"

"Definitely!" grinned Alfred and made to get up but he was pushed back down by a gentle hand.

"I'm way too drunk to lie still for you, dearie," said Arthur, a smirk on his face. "So just lie there, okay?"

"Okay..." said Alfred, hesitantly, feeling some amount of trepidation to the way Arthur was smiling.

With that statement of permission, Arthur leaned over and kissed Alfred once more before kissing along his jaw and onto his neck. Alfred gasped at the sensation – it was usually _him_ doing this sort of thing and he was surprised at how good it felt. His grip on the covers tightened as he moaned in pleasure as Arthur nipped gently at his neck.

Swift hands undressed him and he marvelled at Arthur's gentle touches to his skin. Barely, he registered Arthur turning up his nose in disgust at his days-old clothes. He must stink, he realised and flushed brightly. But, suddenly, Arthur didn't seem to mind as he leaned over and kissed a nipple, his hand teasing the other one. His free hand rested on Alfred's hip and the American moaned, wishing for the hand to move ever so slightly.

Finally, Alfred's wishes were granted as Arthur's hand began to lightly brush over his erection. It wasn't nearly enough of a sensation and Alfred moaned once more, lacing it with desperation. "Patience," Arthur breathed against his chest. Alfred's breath caught and he found himself panting. He simply nodded, waiting.

Arthur began to kiss his way downwards, still teasing a nipple. Eventually, he reached his own hand and, after removing it, he continued on his way. His breath and kisses, his licks and touches were beginning to drive Alfred wild. He found himself wanting to flip Arthur over and take him but the Englishman's hands were gripping his hips firmly.

Suddenly, Arthur's mouth encased Alfred and he gasped. He could feel Arthur smile as he threw his head back. Relishing the sensations of Arthur's alarmingly skilled mouth. Really, how had he gotten so good at this – five weeks ago he hadn't even had sex with a guy before. Now he was going at it like a pro.

His thoughts cut off there as he felt himself on the brink. "A-Arthur! Fuck! I'm... coming!" Arthur didn't stop and respond; instead he licked along his length before sucking hard. Alfred gasped and came, gripping tightly to his sheets. Breathing hard, he sat up, feeling a little weak. Looking down at Arthur, he watched his partner grimace before swallowing his mouthful.

"What is it?" Arthur gasped once he could speak.

"God, you're amazing, Artie!"

Smirking, Arthur stretched up and planted a kiss on Alfred's mouth. "Obviously," he said.

Alfred's heart skipped a beat at that and he held his breath as the Brit leaned across him and reached towards the bedside cabinet. Opening the top drawer, he found the condoms and lube Alfred kept. The lube was unopened, never having been used. Alfred hoped Arthur wouldn't notice. Indeed, Arthur seemed too intent on opening it to say anything. Once his mission was accomplished, Arthur coated his fingers in the substance.

"Huh? What're you doing?" asked Alfred in confusion, trying to sit up better. Arthur pushed him back down.

"Like I said," he said, his tone firm, "lie there. Do not move. Perhaps you should think of England, hm?"

Frowning, Alfred shook his head a little but lay still as he was told. Maybe the Englishman was going to prepare himself before riding him. That would be extremely sexy, Alfred thought, letting out a sigh.

He gasped, however, when he felt Arthur prodding a finger at his entrance. "A-Arthur! What are you doing?!" he exclaimed.

"What do you mean?" asked Arthur, even as he slid a finger in. Alfred gasped once again, this time in pain. A little groan followed as he screwed up his face. Concerned green eyes filled his vision. "Are you okay, dear? What's wrong?"

Shifting uncomfortably, Alfred blushed. "I've never bottomed before," he muttered, averting his eyes.

There was a short silence. "Oh, my darling," sighed Arthur, sending tingles along Alfred's entire body. "Don't worry – I'll be gentle."

Another finger went in and Alfred gasped and moaned in protest. The feeling was uncomfortable and he tensed up several times despite Arthur's reassurances and kisses. Eventually, his body allowed Arthur to scissor his fingers and, shortly afterwards, accepted a third finger. Arthur's kind fingers explored him, prodding gently. Alfred began to get used to the strange feeling.

Then Arthur hit his good spot and he cried out in alarm and pleasure. Arthur only grinned in response. "That good, yes?" he asked. "Well, just you wait, darling."

And with that, his fingers were removed. Alfred heard himself protesting, panting, but Arthur ignored him to shed his own dishevelled clothes. Finally, he returned to Alfred, kissing his neck and made sure he had a condom. Alfred's arms rose, wanting to encircle his partner. But Arthur only shook his head and retreated from his arms to position himself against Alfred.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Arthur began to push into him. His cries became more and more lewd. The dual sensation of pain and pleasure was beginning to push him to his limit. Just as he felt like he couldn't handle Arthur inside him any more, his partner stopped: he was inserted into Alfred fully.

Breathing hard, Alfred reached up and pulled Arthur towards him, wrapping his arms around the other man's shoulders. Sighing into his neck, Arthur kissed him there, muttering into his skin. "I love you, Alfred."

"I know. I love you, too. Please move," begged Alfred through his panting. He felt Arthur grin into his neck but the man obligingly grabbed Alfred's hips and began to rock backwards and forwards. Alfred moaned and groaned, occasionally panting Arthur's name. Arthur would only grunt his name in response. He seemed to be lost in the sensation. For a time, Alfred managed to think of how beautiful Arthur was in the dim lighting. Then Arthur began to frantically thrust harder and deeper into him, picking up the pace. Soon, he was lost to the throes of passion, unable to think. All he could do was gasp his lover's name.

After what seemed like eternity, but not long enough, Alfred was coming just as Arthur gasped. The American dully realised that this meant that they had come together and he was incredibly pleased. Arthur collapsed onto the bed beside him and Alfred pulled him closer, snuggling close to his beloved. In turn, Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred, smiling.

"Arthur..." said Alfred, breathlessly. "Where on Earth did that come from?" he asked with a light laugh.

"Mm," said Arthur, sounding exhausted. He seemed to be drifting off to sleep and Alfred didn't dare move. If he did, perhaps Arthur would run to the shower. Maybe he would leave and Alfred would learn it had all been an illusion. Quietly, he listened to the rest of Arthur's mumbled response. "I... wanted to be... the one t'top. Prefer... Hm... Either way... s'good. We should... do it... 'gain... sometime..."

His breathing slowed and, suddenly, Alfred found himself holding his sleeping lover. He grinned happily and breathed deeply. This happiness that he felt was amazing. Everyone should experience it – just not with Arthur. He had him now and there was no way he was letting him go – no matter what.

* * *

A knocking on his bedroom door roused Alfred. Blinking blearily, he rubbed at his eyes and made to sit up. However, he suddenly realised that Arthur was cuddled into him, breathing steadily in his sleep. The biggest grin that Alfred had ever grinned burst onto his face. "Come in!" he called as loudly as he dared. Arthur sighed and moved closer to the American.

Matthew slowly entered, not looking at the bed. "Alfred... Would you like some breakfast? Arthur as well? And I have painkillers for his hangover..."

"Yeah, please!" said Alfred, cheerily. "Hey, Mattie!"

"Yes?"

"Me and Artie are together!"

"Well... Yes, I heard..." said Matthew with a grimace and swiftly left, closing the door as softly as he could.

Blushing lightly, Alfred looked down at the sleeping Arthur and suddenly frowned. What would happen if Arthur woke up with no memory of the night? If that happened, could he convince him to stay? What would he do if Arthur rejected him again? He wasn't sure he could bear it.

Feeling rather sullen, Alfred stroked Arthur's messy blonde hair. The Brit stirred and Alfred froze, not wanting to wake him and subsequently lose him. Arthur groaned and his eyes fluttered open. Squinting, he looked up. Alfred stared at him, anxiously watching for his reaction. However, the only expression on Arthur's face was one of pain.

"Urgh... I need to stop drinking so much... Do you have any painkillers, pet?" Arthur buried his head into Alfred's chest after speaking, as though he was trying to keep the light out.

"Mattie's bringing some." As Arthur tensed, he added, "Don't worry – he won't look."

"I believe that is beside the point," sighed Arthur.

There was a knock once again and Matthew entered, deliberately not looking at the bed, a tray in his hands. "Good morning," he said to them as he set his load down on the desk. "There's coffee, pancakes, water and aspirin here."

"Jolly good," said Arthur, smiling into Alfred's skin but not moving. "Is Gilbert suffering as much as me?"

Alfred watched his brother pause. "He... He's already left. Apparently, he had some things to do before tonight. Francis wants the two of you to go to work tonight."

The two men in the bed nodded and Matthew retreated. Once he had gone, Arthur reluctantly sat up and Alfred bounded over to the tray, returning to the bed with it and holding it on his lap. Arthur practically grabbed the glass of water provided and took the aspirin as quickly as he could. He rubbed at his temples with a groan as Alfred began to tuck into the pancakes.

"You should eat something," said Alfred. "Mattie makes the best pancakes in the world!"

"I hardly think that is a valid co-" began Arthur but he was cut off by a gentle kiss.

"Love you, Artie," said Alfred, giddily.

Blushing, Arthur quickly took a piece of pancake and chewed on it thoughtfully. "Yes... Well... Um.." he managed to say.

"You're supposed to say you love me, too, Artie," Alfred encouraged.

"I don't think I'm legally obliged to," said Arthur, haughtily. Alfred's face fell and he opened his mouth to speak only to hear Arthur laugh. Looking up, he saw those green eyes gazing at him lovingly. "Ah, you dolt. Of course I... Look, I really care about you but I won't say it right now. I'll... Just... I'm not going to say it all the time, got it?"

Alfred nodded gratefully. "'Kay," he said, smiling softly.

"And another thing," said Arthur, attracting Alfred's attention again. "These really _are_ good pancakes."

* * *

"What shall we do for the rest of the day?" asked Arthur as he gave up smoothing out the creases in his crumpled shirt. They had finally crawled from bed at midday, had a rather long shower together, and were now sitting in the living room. Matthew sat on a chair to the side, his laptop open, papers rustling around him. He tapped at the keys a little with a sigh.

"I dunno," said Alfred. Then he turned to Arthur with a cheeky smile. "Well... I have one idea..."

"No, Alfred. We have to do that at work later. I'd rather just wait till then." The Brit blushed and Alfred grinned.

"I can't wait to see Francis' face. He won't believe I have a permanent partner now!"

Smiling, Arthur stroked at Alfred's hair. "Why don't I go find some clothes from home? I could... stay over here, yes?" With that, he glanced at Matthew.

"Sure!" exclaimed Alfred without giving his brother a glance. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mattie roll his eyes.

"I'll go on my own, all right?" said Arthur. "Afterwards... Why not go for a walk along the beach?"

Alfred's eyes lit up. A romantic stroll... "I'm totally up for that!" cried Alfred, throwing his arms around his boyfriend. Arthur hugged him back before peeling himself away.

"Shan't be long, love!" he told Alfred, cheerily. And with that he was gone. Alfred stared after him, his mouth an 'o' of shock. _Love_. He liked that name. His heart pounded hard and he hoped Arthur really wouldn't be gone too long.

* * *

After getting everything organised, Alfred and Arthur finally set off for the beach, their hands entwined. "Did your brother say anything after I left?" Arthur asked, nervously.

Alfred smiled gently down at his love. "Not really. Just asked us to be quiet tonight if we're gonna, y'know, do it."

"Oh, God..." moaned Arthur, his cheeks flaring up.

"It's not too bad. I'm sure he doesn't really mind," Alfred reassured him.

They continued their walk in silence. "I'm not sure how I'm going to tell my family..." said Arthur, hesitantly as the beach came into view. Alfred gave his hand a squeeze as the Brit continued talking. "I mean... They hate my life choices but I still send them a card every Christmas. Yet... I think this revelation will shock them. It shocked me, after all." Arthur glanced at Alfred with a small, apologetic smile.

"Honey," said Alfred with a huge grin. "I'm sure it'll be fine! And even if it isn't, I'll keep you safe from their words, okay?"

Arthur laughed. "Oh, Alfred. We're not being filmed, you know. You do not need to say such things."

"But I want to. I love you, Arthur." Seeing Arthur grow flustered made Alfred happy.

With a sigh, Arthur asked a question. "Will we be okay?"

"Yeah," answered Alfred with barely a thought. "You don't need to work yourself too hard or worry about a marriage you don't want or a kid. We'll be fine. And I bet you'll become an epic actor. I'll be your biggest fan, of course!"

Chortling, Arthur nodded. "I feel... like I'm walking amongst the clouds. These past few weeks... It's been dreadful."

"Aren't you glad you have me?"

"Don't get too full of yourself, git!" Laughing, the two men continued along the beach, their hands never leaving the others'.

* * *

"I see you two have made up, oui?" remarked Francis as they entered the hotel room hand in hand. "Ou... More than that, I see." He smirked at them.

"Belt up," said Arthur, glaring at him.

"Now, now! That is not the kind of thing to be saying to the man who writes your paycheck."

Arthur rolled his eyes at him before glancing at the scripts. "What's the scenario this time?"

"I think you will like it," said Francis, looking pleased. "It's some make-up sex. I am sure you are experienced enough for this, non?"

Frowning, Arthur lifted the script and ran his eyes across the page. As he was doing that, Alfred smiled at Francis. "This means I've got myself a full-time partner, right?"

"Oui, it does! We should go out to celebrate later!" Francis looked round at the other two. Antonio nodded. Gilbert sighed but inclined his head as if he approved. Alfred frowned at them. They seemed to be upset about something and he wondered what was wrong. Francis also frowned at them but smiled when he returned his attention to Alfred. Before he could say anything further, however, Arthur stomped over to him, waving the script in front of his face.

"Hey! What the hell is this?! There is no way I'm going to simper at him! Or-Or any of this other stuff!"

Puzzled, Alfred lifted a script and scanned it. Francis had decided that Arthur would drunkenly declare his love before begging to be taken by Alfred as punishment. Alfred shook his head. "Francis, man – this ain't how it happened. Arthur was way more lucid. And _he_ topped _me_."

Arthur stared at him with a horrified expression, his cheeks slowly turning red. " _Alfred!_ " he gasped.

"Oh, now! I must change it to suit, non?" said Francis with a smug look at Arthur. "Why not re-enact last night's scene. Without the mention of the reason for your falling out, non? Places everyone!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Part of) Original A/N:  
> They, uh, kinda made up fast, huh? I just can't write arguments, apparently. And it was really difficult what with Arthur being drunk. So I may have rushed it a little. But it just kinda flowed into that...
> 
> Speaking of that, he is rather drunk. But... Not so drunk that he can't tell Alfred how he truly feels without it being dismissed. Both he and Gil were acting up - perhaps on the advice of a certain Frenchman. Or they all agreed to it. I'm not sure...


	6. Sixth Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following is from Arthur's POV. It's split into two parts. The first is about his meeting with Francis. The second is something which happens some time after the last chapter.

** Sixth Audition **

It had been six years since his decision to be an actor. Six years since his family had mocked him and he had drifted away, finally severing all ties. And in those six years, he still had not been cast in anything besides minor advertisements.

His grip on the script tightened. He absolutely had to be perfect today. No slip-ups. Pronounce everything clearly. Make sure his emotions actually showed. Smile at the people casting. Be civil. Nothing could go wrong.

Beside him, other men were practising their 'British' accents. Really, now! He should be hired just on the principle of _actually_ being British. Though he should probably correct them – a 'British' accent never existed.

Arthur yawned. All this waiting about was normally nerve-racking but, this time, he was so sure he would get it. After all, he had to have a break some time, didn't he? And this time he _needed_ the role.

This time he would get what he wanted.

* * *

Emerging from the room, Arthur sighed. The two men and one woman judging him had not looked impressed. The usual reply of 'we'll get back to you' rung in his ears. It was true that they very well might but Arthur had always imagined that, if he was perfect for the role, he'd be told so at the audition.

Discouraged, Arthur flipped through the script, trying to work out what he could have done better. As such, he walked round a corner and straight into the path of another person. He glanced up in time to see alarmed blue eyes just before they collided. Both of them overbalanced and ended up on the ground, groaning in pain.

"I am so sorry!" cried Arthur, hurrying to his feet as he recovered first. The other man was also blonde but his hair was longer and smoother than Arthur's, perhaps as a result of several hair products. Stubble on his chin threatened to become a beard but Arthur had a feeling that he kept it that way deliberately. As Arthur held out a hand to help the man to his feet, he smiled pleasantly up at the actor. "I wasn't looking where I was going!" continued Arthur. "I'm terribly sorry!"

"De rien, chéri," said the man as he grasped Arthur's hand. For a moment, Arthur stiffened, recognising the accent and the language, even if he was unaware of what he had said. Biting his lip to prevent himself from saying anything that could be construed as an insult, Arthur pulled the Frenchman to his feet. Then he noticed he had dropped his script and, after a quick look around, picked it up from the floor.

"Well, once again, I apologise," said Arthur and stepped around the man.

"Wait!" exclaimed the man. Pausing, Arthur turned back to him, frowning. Blue eyes flickered to the papers in his hand. "Are you an actor?" Not sure what to say to that, Arthur nodded. "Are you unable to get cast in anything?"

Arthur was scowling now. "That's none of your business."

"It is," the man assured him. "I am Francis Bonnefoy – a director."

The Englishman perked up at this. "A director?" asked Arthur. "Really?"

"Oui. And it just so happens I am looking for an attractive young man." Francis smirked at him.

Trying not to blush and knowing he was failing, Arthur rolled his eyes and folded his arms. "Really? You expect me to believe that you _just so happen_ to be in the market for an actor? I'm not going to sleep with you, if that's what you're trying to achieve."

"Non, non," sighed Francis, dismissively. He even waved a head and shook his head. "I already have someone for that. Though, if you are interested...?"

"No."

"Then I have a proposition for you."

"Yes?"

"I am a director for a popular porn series-"

"No!" exclaimed Arthur, his blush definitely spreading. "Leave me alone, Frog!" he snapped as he turned to walk away. A hand on his arm stopped him in his tracks, however, and he turned to glare. "Get-"

"I will pay you well."

"What?"

"You are a struggling actor, oui? You need money – I can provide you with more than whatever your current job pays."

Francis' eyes were intense as they gazed into Arthur's. Chewing his lip a little, Arthur found himself seriously considering it. "I..."

"Come now! Surely having money for this sort of job is much better than scraping the bottom of your bank for the next meal?"

"What exactly will I have to do?" asked Arthur, his eyes narrowed.

Those dangerous blue eyes, which seemed rather cold to Arthur, glinted. "Why, act, of course!"

And Arthur knew he was hooked. He was being offered a role and, by the sounds of it, a steady job. Desperately, he tried to resist his yearning. "Act as if I'm having sex?" he asked, trying his best to sound suspicious and unconvinced. "And that's all?"

"Oui!" said Francis, cheerfully. "I have the perfect person to pair you with. What do you say?"

"Hm. I thought porn stars actually had to have sex..."

"I suppose they do. I am sure it will not be too much trouble to _act_ as though you are enjoying it."

"I don't..."

Sighing, Francis shrugged. "Well, I am in a hurry, so-"

"Wait!" exclaimed Arthur, grabbing hold of Francis' arm this time. He may not have wanted to stoop to whoring himself out but... Porn was different, wasn't it? Firmly, he told himself that it was, giving himself the determination to continue. "I-I'll do it, okay?"

"Bien!" cried Francis as he put a hand inside his jacket and drew out a business card. "This is where I will need you to be. Do not worry about bank details – I will give you money in cash if you are still wary. Though, I must say, paying it into the bank is much simpler. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall leave you be. Ah! Be there this Thursday, at eight, s'il vous plait!" And with that, he swept off, leaving Arthur staring at the card and feeling both elated and guilty.

* * *

The silence in the kitchen was deafening, increasing Arthur's guilt. Should he really go through with the porn job? After all, seated at the table across from him was his fiancée, for goodness' sake! Would Elizaveta be angry at him if he was acting with other women like that? Arthur couldn't remember the last time they had been together – it had been before the pregnancy, anyway. It could seriously hurt her if she ever found out.

He decided to speak up. "I got offered a job today, honey," he said, a little hesitant.

"An acting job?" asked Elizaveta, smiling happily as she brushed her long, brown hair behind a shoulder.

"Well, yes, of a sort," said Arthur, grimacing a little as he poked at his stew with a fork.

"'Of a sort'?" repeated Elizaveta, a confused expression passing across her face.

"Yes. It's... an independent filming company. Nothing may come of it, but..."

"That's wonderful news, Arthur!" cried Elizaveta, beaming. "I hope it goes well!"

"Of course it will," said Arthur, smiling slightly at her excitement despite the guilt gnawing at him. He couldn't tell her what it was actually for. There was no way she would let him do this. If he acted his socks off (as well as his other clothes), he would no doubt be able to progress from porn to better roles.

"What sort of character will you be portraying?" she asked.

"Er, the director was rather vague about that – I expect I'll be told more on Thursday when I go to see him."

"Ah."

"It will pay much more than the diner job," Arthur added. "Thankfully. It just means I won't be around on Thursday nights. I'll make sure Roderich pops in those nights. Just to make sure you're okay." He smiled slightly at her. Elizaveta's smile faded a little but she nodded.

Arthur returned his attention to eating, thoughts running through his mind. He had to look after Elizaveta, he had to look after their child, he needed more money, he wanted to act, he wished his family were closer to him, he had noticed Elizaveta acting a little oddly. All of these conflicting thoughts, suspicions and emotions were beginning to wear him down. Hopefully this porn role would help.

* * *

Since the evening he had spoken to Elizaveta, Arthur had been thinking about his options. His final decision was rather disheartening and made him stare at the doors of the lift sadly. Depending on his monetary situation, he would only do this once or twice. With enough money saved up for the baby and the wedding, everything would be fine. Then he could escape from being a 'porn star' and renew his efforts to be an actor. A proper actor. Hopefully no-one would discover his porn career.

Now that his determination had returned, his guilt had been washed away. But not his nerves. His fingers were gripping the bottom of his ridiculous shirt a little too tightly and he tried to take deep breaths to calm himself. It was silly, really. He could do this.

The lift jerked to a stop and the doors opened. Before he could start to doubt himself, Arthur marched down the hallway. He had already let Francis know he was coming. There was no way he could let himself miss an appointment.

Finally, he arrived at his destination and he paused at the door. Staring at the number, he realised that it felt a little as though his life was about to change. Perhaps it would, for the better, he hoped.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur raised a fist and knocked sharply on the door.

* * *

** Sixth Holiday **

"Huh," said Arthur to himself. "It's the second road on the left – and straight on till Morningside. Alfred will _love_ this." Speaking of the American, Arthur lifted his gaze from the map and squinted through the car's and shop's windows, trying to catch a glimpse of him. Where the heck had he gotten to?

With a sigh, the Brit folded up the map and placed it in the glove compartment. Once his hands were free, something on his finger caught the sunlight and glinted. Smiling, Arthur lifted his hand to gaze at the ring on his left hand. His wedding band.

Every time he spotted it on his hand, a sense of being loved more than anyone else in the world swept over him. Of course, he knew that the rest of the time but, really, the ring meant so much. He sighed happily, glad that his husband wasn't around to laugh at his sentimentality.

Another glance towards the interior of the petrol station made Arthur bite his lip, though. Where was he? He had said he was going in to pay for their petrol and pick up some snacks. So why was he taking so long? Was he all right?

Pushing the door open with his shoulder, Arthur hopped out of the jeep. He had argued with Alfred about it being a gas guzzler but, really, it was more because it was so big Arthur felt he needed climbing equipment to get in and out of it. Walking around the car he strode to the shop door, trying not to appear frantic.

Inside, he blinked and waited for his eyes to get used to the dim lighting. There were rows of snacks and travelling essentials and postcards and other such things. A bored man with black hair and stubble glanced at him before returning his attention to the small television hidden behind the counter. At the other end of the shop, Alfred was bent over something. Sighing, Arthur stalked up to him and tapped his shoulder. "What on Earth is taking so long?" he asked, quietly, afraid to break the still air.

Alfred gasped and spun round. His surprise quickly turned to a loving smile and he kissed Arthur's forehead. "You gave me a fright, Art."

"Yes, sorry," said Arthur, his voice even more hushed. Alfred had never been able to keep his voice quiet. "What _is_ taking you so long? Surely that's enough? You can barely keep all that in your arms!" He gestured at the mound of crisps and chocolate and fizzy juice. Perhaps he should have picked up a basket on the way in, Arthur considered, eyeing him.

In response, Alfred grinned. "I thought we could use some entertainment in the cabin. Y'know, at night – when we're not..."

His cheeks pink, Arthur shook his head. "I thought we already had some board games in the car? And I'm sure you managed to sneak in some DVDs, as well."

"Yeah, but I thought it'd be fun to see what crappy DVDs this place would have."

"Did you find anything interesting?" asked Arthur, shaking his head once again.

The grin on his face widened. "Yeah. I definitely did." And with that, he held up the one in his hand which Arthur had failed to notice.

Lazily, Arthur glanced at it. He looked back to his husband's face – only to return his attention to the cover, his eyes wide. "W-What?!" he breathed. "P-Put that away before someone sees!"

"What's wrong with it?" teased Alfred, flipping it over to look at the picture. Arthur and his husband were both on it, one of their sweet kisses on that bed in the hotel almost leaping out in its high definition. The title, _Amazing American Sweetness_ , made Arthur cringe inwardly. Francis' naming techniques were really awful.

And then Alfred began to read the blurb.

"The charismatic Alfred and his lover Arthur get into another-"

"Alfred!" hissed Arthur, grabbing the DVD from his grasp. Panicking a little, Arthur looked for somewhere to place the offending item out of harm's way.

"Aw, come on, Art. What's up with you?"

"After all I've battled towards and you're just going to walk up to someone and hand over _that_! They will most certainly recognise me! And then the whole world will know... You know what the paparazzi is like..." Arthur shivered and started to rearrange the DVDs in the rack so that he could hide the one in his hands.

Sighing, Alfred reached out awkwardly and grasped Arthur's wrist. "You're always saying you don't care if they find out. Don't you want them to see how much we love each other?"

Arthur blushed and glanced up at him. "I... It's not that. But doing it so blatantly..."

Leaning in, Alfred glanced at the cashier who was ignoring them. "I doubt anyone'll believe him, anyhow. C'mon, Artie – let's get it! Then we can do it while we're-"

"Al! Do you have no shame?!" The only response was a grin and a shrug as Alfred straightened up. For a moment, Arthur bit his lip. "Okay, fine. But I'm going back to the car. Don't take too long, okay?"

Back in his seat, Arthur spun his wedding ring around his finger. The reason for his panic was due to his career. Six years after meeting Alfred, he had finally become a world-famous actor. It was all he had ever dreamed it would be. Of course, poor Alfred was dragged around the world with him. Though, it _had_ been him who had insisted on being his only PA. And so, with a lucky break in a few episodes of a short TV show (which had gained a cult following), both Arthur and Alfred had broken out of the porn business. Francis had been a little put-out – but screw the Frog. There was no way Arthur was leaving his husband in the hands of anyone else. So he was always paranoid about anyone learning of his year letting people film the two of them having sex. If it became widely known, there would be an uproar. Would he ever gain new roles? He only hoped the cashier wouldn't recognise him on the front cover of that DVD.

"Hey!" cried Alfred as he threw open the driver's door. Slipping into his seat, he placed a large bag in the back seat before turning to Arthur. Simultaneously, they leaned towards each other and shared a quick kiss. "I don't think you have anything to worry about!" claimed Alfred as he slammed his door shut. Arthur winced at the sound.

"And why do you say that?"

"I have no idea what he was watching but he barely looked at what he was scanning. And I made sure I had it barcode side up. So he didn't even flip it, just shoved it into the bag. So, no need to worry, honey!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "And whose fault is it that I'm worrying?"

"Aw, c'mon. Don't be like that," whined Alfred as he started the car. "It's our anniversary. It should be all loving words and lotsa sex!"

A roll of his eyes once again, even though he was smiling slightly. "Yes. Well, let's go."

"How far is it?"

When Arthur told him, Alfred moaned. "Dammit! Peter Pan was right there! You shoulda told me and I'd have got that instead!"

"I think what you bought was fine, love. Rather romantic, I suppose." They grinned at each other and Alfred held out his hand. Arthur took and twined their fingers with a smile.

Who would have thought being so desperate would have brought him this much happiness?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original A/N:  
> God. That ending is so cheesy. I apologise. It was supposed to be more epic. Oh, well.
> 
> I know they probably still live in LA so I'm not sure how they got married. Whatever. EDIT: Someone just told me that theycan get married in LA! Awesome!
> 
> Morningside probably does not exist as a cabin beside a large lake (which is what I was picturing). It's purely there as a bad joke which resulted in the mention of Peter Pan. Sorry.
> 
> Since Elizaveta and Roderich didn't crop up... They got married and had a cute little girl called Daisy. (Who looks vaguely like Chibitalia. No, the kid isn't actually a boy - she's really a girl.)
> 
> In the first part, I was going to have Francis and Arthur's conversation when he asks to talk to him privately when he discovers Alfred is who he's being paired with. But I felt knocking on the door was a better place to end it at that part. Basically, Arthur tells him he's never done anything like this before and isn't sure he can do it. (With lots of heavy hinting.) Francis just tells him it'll be fine and explains what he'll be doing in a little more detail. Arthur was then told how much he was being paid and he was left speechless. So they went back to the room and - boom - first night.


End file.
